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GUY MANNERING 

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GUY MANNERING 

Or, THE ASTROLOGER 

BY 

SIR WALTER SCOTT 

i) 

% 

ABRIDGED 


EDITED BY 


EVA WARNER CASE 

i 

INSTRUCTOR IN NEWSPAPER ENGLISH 
MANUAL TRAINING HIGH SCHOOL 
KANSAS CITY, MO. 


Nefo gflrk 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
1919 


All rights reserved 





Copyright, 1919 , 

By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 


Set up and electrotyped. Published July, 1919. 


JUL -3 '319 

©C!. A 5 2 9 1 2 5 


I 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Editor’s Introduction ix 

Scott’s Introduction xv 

Chronology of Scott’s Life and Writings . . xxxv 

GUY MANNERING 1 

Map of Guy Mannering Region .... 444 

Notes 445 

Glossary 479 

Suggestive Questions 493 



EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION 

Guy Mannering, the second of the famous Waverley Novels , 
appeared in February, 1815. According to Scott’s own ac- 
count, it had been written in six weeks “to shake myself free 
of Waverley ,” which had appeared the preceding summer. 
This achievement Saintsbury characterizes as “the most 
gigantic exhibition of ‘the hair of the dog’ in literature.” 

Except for young readers, it would hardly be necessary to 
repeat that Scott had drifted into novel writing after a suc- 
cessful poetic epoch extending from The Lay of the Last 
Minstrel in 1805 to The Lord, of the Isles in 1814. His change 
of form was due partly to the growing popularity of Byron, 
who was setting all Europe on fire with his impassioned verse, 
and partly to Scott’s own desire for a freer vehicle for the tales 
of Scottish life and character with which his memory teemed. 

As a child of three he had been sent to the farm of his 
paternal grandfather at Sandyknowe in the hope that the 
country air might ward off the lameness with which he was 
threatened. Here he lived until his eighth year, listening to 
the stories of border raids told him by his grandfather and the 
shepherds, absorbing tales of the marvellous from the servant- 
maids and peasant wives, forming that taste for old ballads 
that furnished the material for Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
Border in 1802, as well as for some of the most stirring songs 
scattered throughout his other works, both prose and verse. 

ix 


X 


EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION 


This early knowledge of Scotch life and tradition had been 
strengthened by the habit he formed after he entered his 
father’s law office in his fifteenth year, of going on long walk- 
ing trips, or “raids,” as he called them, into the country. 
Here he mingled with all classes, making himself especially at 
home with the peasants and eagerly devouring their marvellous 
tales, while noting and storing up for future use their striking 
characteristics. When he began 'writing, his mind was a rich 
storehouse of Scotch tradition, superstition, and history, 
lighted up by a sympathetic and yet humorous appreciation 
of Scotch character at its best and its worst. 

Waverley had its foundation in Scotch history — the up- 
rising in favor of the “Young Pretender” in 1745. Scott here 
employed the method he used so successfully in his later 
novels : he based his story on some important historical event, 
yet centred the interest around non-historic, fictitious char- 
acters, whose life problems are worked out in connection with 
the historic happening forming the background. In Guy 
Mannering, as in The Antiquary and St. Ronan’s Well, Scott 
relies upon the incidents and the characters for his interest, 
and makes no attempt at linking either with any historic 
incident. True, references are made to “this weary American 
war,” and Colonel Mannering, just back from India, gives us 
in his letter to his friend Mervyn glimpses of native uprisings, 
but these are merely by way of background, and in nowise 
affect the action. Guy Mannering is a tale of Scotch life, pure 
and simple, depending for its interest upon no artificial effect, 
not even the astrological idea that the author pursues for a 
few chapters, only to abandon as unsuited to the kind of tale 
he wished to write. 

Scott’s own account of the sources both of plot and of char- 
acters is so comprehensive that little remains to be said under 
either head. Hastily written though it may have been, Guy 


EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION 


XI 


Mannering is a specimen of literary craftsmanship such as 
one looks for in vain in the later novels. The plot details are 
carefully worked out, with suitable provision for relief and 
climax. The passages that lead to the detection and arrest 
of Glossin and Hatteraick are constructed with an attention 
to the proper dovetailing of incident worthy of a Poe. The 
greatest structural fault is probably the repetition in so many 
forms, with such wealth of detail, of the story of Harry Ber- 
tram’s life in India. 

As usual, Scott’s minor characters are his best. Guy 
Mannering himself is a pompous, authoritative person, whose 
ridiculous folly in supposing a youth of twenty would be 
enamored of a woman of thirty-eight when a charming girl 
of sixteen was at hand, precipitates his own domestic troubles. 
Some critics, among them Saintsbury, profess to believe that 
Scott intended to portray some of his own traits in Colonel 
Mannering. 

“His (Scott’s) pride, his generosity, and his patronage of 
the Dominie are not unrecognizable,” writes Saintsbury. 
“And a man’s idea of himself is often, while strange to others, 
perfectly true to his real nature.” 

Harry Bertram seems to have a mania for involving him- 
self in the most unnecessary difficulties, from which he can be 
extricated only by the concerted efforts of all his friends. 
Julia is the usual fine lady of eighteenth-century writers. For 
her prototype in romantic ideals we must look to Sheridan’s 
Miss Lydia Languish. Julia’s affectations and boarding 
school pertness are sometimes almost too much for the reader, 
who longs to box her ears soundly. Lucy Bertram is an ad- 
mirable ingenue, timid, shrinking, fainting at every turn, 
possessing no strength of character but much sweetness. 
Charles Hazlewood moves through the story like an admirable 
automaton, always coming in at the right moment, leaving 


Xll 


EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION 


nothing to be desired in the way of playing the part for which 
the author designed him, yet leaving in the end no decided 
impression in the mind of the reader. 

But the minor characters more than make up for the 
deficiencies of the principals. Meg Merrilies, with her dog- 
like devotion to the lost son of the patron who had driven her 
from her girlhood home, and Dominie Sampson, equally de- 
voted to the orphan daughter of that same patron, are a pait 
to be remembered. Bertram’s shiftless father, as he appears 
in the earlier chapters, is a richly humorous portrayal of well- 
meaning inefficiency, while Dandie Dinmont pays ample 
tribute to Scott’s close study of life during those early “raids” 
into Liddesdale and Galloway. 

Here we have the Scotch farmer at his best, yet with enough 
of his less admirable qualities cropping out to make him wholly 
human. Dandie will entertain for a whole week a chance 
wayfarer who has done him a good turn, take into his home 
the little maid who has been left homeless by Mrs. Margaret 
Bertram’s death, and refuse to “whistle up the rent” on his 
neighbors ; yet he is so obstinately set on having his “rights” 
that he will make a trip to Edinburgh to bring suit against a 
neighbor over a disputed bit of bare hilltop that “may feed a 
hog, or aiblins twa in a good year.” And Dandie, like the 
farmers with whom Scott foregathered in his “raids,” liked 
his glass so well that not until the brandy bottle had visited 
his lips would he permit the solicitous Ailie to bathe his 
bruised head with the precious liquor. 

Hatteraick and Glossin form a precious pair of rogues, 
consistent in their roguery throughout. Pleydell, the advo- 
cate, who could leap from his “kingly” throne at his Saturday 
evening sport of “High- Jinks” to consider the petitions of 
the clients who had travelled to Edinburgh to see him, and 
business over, throw himself back into his revels again, must 


EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION xiii 

represent a type that Scott was only too familiar with in the 
years between 1785 and 1797. Nor must we forget Sir 
Robert Hazlewood, the pompous plebeian, with his fondness 
for what Macaulay terms, in speaking of Samuel Johnson, 
“triads in ation and osity.” His vanity and his gullibility 
are alike illustrated in the way Glossin cleverly bends the 
baronet to his own will in the matter of the commitment of 
young Bertram and the withdrawal of the guards from 
Portansferry. 

For groups of characters, who, while their conversation 
serves to further the action of the story, serve also to give 
definite local color, few better can be found than the “social 
group closed around the kitchen fire of the Gordon Arms, a 
small but comfortable inn kept by Mrs. McCandlish.” Yet 
better even than this is the anxious group gathered to hear 
the reading of Old Lady Bertram’s will. From the “buck of 
the second-head,” who was sorry he had ever plagued himself 
to call on the old lady when he found she had not left him even 
a hundred, to the tobacconist, who confided to his neighbor 
at sight of the tears of the little serving-maid : “There’s ower 
muckle saut water there, Drumquag, to bode ither folk 
muckle good. Folk seldom greet that gate but they know 
what it’s for,” each character is drawn with a humorous appre- 
ciation of the foibles of humanity that does credit to Scott’s 
insight into the human heart. For anything so rich in human 
interest and local color in character groups we must turn to 
Eliot’s Silas Marner, and read anew the gathering at the 
Rainbow and the New Year’s party at the Red House. 

The descriptive passages, beautifully wrought in them- 
selves, are so interwoven with the details of plot and char- 
acter growth that not until one tries to shorten the story 
by removing useless description and detail does one realize 
the full measure of the skill with which Guy Mannering was 


XIV 


EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION 


constructed. In the present instance, the omissions have 
been made with the sole aim of strengthening the plot interest 
while shortening the story to a length suitable for school use. 
No important incident or character has been sacrificed ; no 
chapter removed bodily ; no link dropped in the chain of neces- 
sary events. 

The notes have been prepared solely to aid young readers 
to understand the story more readily and to take greater 
interest in it because textual difficulties have been removed. 
No attempts at erudite excursions which would serve merely 
to distract the young reader from the thread of his story have 
been permitted to creep in. A moderate number of suggestive 
questions have been added, but no elaborate study plan is offered 
because of the belief of the editor that the purpose of intro- 
ducing high school girls and boys to Scott is to make them 
enjoy him so much that they will want more of him. To 
accomplish this, the less formal the study the better, and the 
more the teacher may exercise her ingenuity to make her plans 
fit individual cases. A request on the part of the pupil for 
“ something else of Scott’s as interesting as Guy Mannering ” 
may mean more to many thinking teachers than pages of the 
most laboriously written disquisitions on plot, character 
analysis, and style, though these may all have their part in 
the scheme of English work. 


E. W. C. 




SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 

The Novel or Romance of Waverley made its way 
to the public at first slowly, but afterwards with such 
accumulating popularity as to encourage the author to a 
second attempt. He looked about for a name and a subject ; 
and the manner in which the novels were composed cannot 5 
be better illustrated than by reciting the simple narrative 
on which “Guy Mannering” was originally founded; but to 
which, in the progress of the work, the production ceased 
to bear any, even the most distant, resemblance. The tale 
was originally told me by an old servant of my father’s, an 10 
excellent old Highlander, without a fault, unless a preference 
to mountain-dew over less potent liquors be accounted one. 
He believed as firmly in the story, as in any part of his creed. 

A grave and elderly person, according to old John 
MacKinlay’s account, while travelling in the wilder parts of 15 
Galloway, was benighted. With difficulty he found his way 
to a country-seat, where, with the hospitality of the time and 
country, he was readily admitted. The owner of the house, 
a gentleman of good fortune, was much struck by the reverend 
appearance of his guest, and apologized to him for a certain 20 
degree of confusion which must unavoidably attend his recep- 
tion, and could not escape his eye. The lady of the house 
was, he said, confined to her apartment, and on the point of 
making her husband a father for the first time, though they 
had been ten years married. At such an emergency, the 25 


xv 


XVI 


SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 


Laird said, he feared his guest might meet with some apparent 
neglect. 

“Not so, sir,” said the stranger; “my wants are few, and 
easily supplied, and I trust the present circumstances may 
5 even afford an opportunity of showing my gratitude for your 
hospitality. Let me only request that I may be informed of 
the exact minute of the birth ; and I hope to be able to put 
you in possession of some particulars, which may influence, 
in an important manner, the future prospects of the child 
ionow about to come into this busy and changeful world. I 
will not conceal from you that I am skilful in understanding 
and interpreting the movements of those planetary bodies 
which exert their influences on the destiny of mortals. It is 
a science which I do not practise, like others who call them- 
15 selves astrologers, for hire or reward; for I have a competent 
estate, and only use the knowledge I possess for the benefit 
of those in whom I feel an interest.” The Laird bowed in 
respect and gratitude, and the stranger was accommodated 
with an apartment which commanded an ample view of the 
20 astral regions. 

The guest spent a part of the night in ascertaining the 
position of the heavenly bodies, and calculating their prob- 
able influence; until at length the result of his observations 
induced him to send for the father, and conjure him, in the 
25 most solemn manner, to cause the assistants to retard 
the birth, if practicable, were it but for five minutes. The 
answer declared this to be impossible; and almost in the 
instant that the message was returned, the father and his 
guest were made acquainted with the birth of a boy. 

3 o The Astrologer on the morrow met the party who gathered 
around the breakfast table, with looks so grave and ominous, 
as to alarm the fears of the father, who had hitherto exulted in 
the prospects held out by the birth of an heir to his ancient 


oCOTT'S INTRODUCTION Xvii 

property, failing which event it must have passed to a distant 
branch of the family. He hastened to draw the stranger into 
a private room. 

“I fear from your looks,” said the father, “that you have 
bad tidings to tell me of my young stranger ; perhaps God 5 
will resume the blessing He has bestowed ere he attains the 
age of manhood, or perhaps he is destined to be unworthy of 
the affection which we are naturally disposed to devote to our 
offspring.” 

“Neither the one nor the other,” answered the stranger; 10 
“unless my judgment greatly err, the infant will survive the 
years of minority, and in temper and disposition will prove all 
that his parents can wish. But with much in his horoscope 
which promises many blessings, there is one evil influence 
strongly predominant, which threatens to subject him to an 15 
unhallowed and unhappy temptation about the time when he 
shall attain the age of twenty-one, which period, the constella- 
tions intimate, will be the crisis of his fate. In what shape, 
or with what peculiar urgency, this temptation may beset him, 
my art cannot discover.” 20 

“Your knowledge, then, can afford us no defence,” said the 
anxious father, “against the threatened evil?” 

“Pardon me,” answered the stranger, “it can. The in- 
fluence of the constellations is powerful : but He, who made 
the heavens, is more powerful than all, if His aid be invoked 25 
in sincerity and truth. You ought to dedicate this boy to the 
immediate service of his Maker, with as much sincerity as 
Samuel was devoted to the worship in the Temple by his 
parents. You must regard him as a being separated from 
the rest of the world. In childhood, in boyhood, you must 30 
surround him with the pious and virtuous, and protect him, to 
the utmost of your power, from the sight or hearing of any 
crime, in word or action. He must be educated in religious 


XV111 


SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 


and moral principles of the strictest.description. Let him not 
enter the world, lest he learn to partake of its follies, or per- 
haps of its vices. In short, preserve him as far as possible from 
all sin, save that of which too great a portion belongs to all the 
S fallen race of Adam. With the approach of his twenty-first 
birthday comes the crisis of his fate. If he survive it, he will 
be happy and prosperous on earth, and a chosen vessel among 

those elected for heaven. But if it be otherwise” The 

Astrologer stopped, and sighed deeply, 
io “Sir,” replied the parent, still more alarmed than before, 
“your words are so kind, your advice so serious, that I will 
pay the deepest attention to your behests; but can you not 
aid me further in this most important concern? Believe me, 
I will not be ungrateful.” 

15 “I require and deserve no gratitude for doing a good 
action,” said the stranger, “in especial for contributing all 
that lies in my power to save from an abhorred fate the 
harmless infant to whom, under a singular conjunction of 
planets, last night gave life. There is my address ; you may 
20 write to me from time to time concerning the progress of the 
boy in religious knowledge. If he be bred up as I advise, I 
think it will be best that he come to my house at the time 
when the fatal and decisive period approaches, that is, before 
he has attained his twenty-first year complete. If you send 
25 him such as I desire, I humbly trust that God will protect 
His own, through whatever strong temptation his fate may 
subject him to.” He then gave his host his address, which 
was a country-seat near a post town in the south of England, 
and bid him an affectionate farewell. 

30 The mysterious stranger departed, but his words remained 
impressed upon the mind of the anxious parent. He lost his 
lady while his boy was still in infancy. This calamity, 1 think, 
had been predicted by the Astrologer; and thus his eonfi- 


SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION 


XIX 


dence, which, like most people of the period, he had freely 
given to the science, was riveted and confirmed. The utmost 
care, therefore, was taken to carry into effect the severe and 
almost ascetic plan of education which the sage had enjoined. 

A tutor of the strictest principles was employed to superintend 5 
the youth’s education ; he was surrounded by domestics of the 
most established character, and closely watched and looked 
after by the anxious father himself. 

The years of infancy, childhood, and boyhood passed as 
the father could have wished. A young Nazarene could not 10 
have been bred up with more rigor. All that was evil was 
withheld from his observation — he only heard what was 
pure in precept — he only witnessed what was worthy in 
practice. 

But when the boy began to be lost in the youth, the atten- 15 
tive father saw cause for alarm. Shades of sadness, which 
gradually assumed a darker character, began to overcloud 
the young man’s temper. Tears, which seemed involuntary, 
broken sleep, moonlight wanderings, and a melancholy for 
which he could assign no reason, seemed to threaten at once 2 c 
his bodily health, and the stability of his mind. The Astrol- 
oger was consulted by letter, and returned for answer, that 
this fitful state of mind was but the commencement of his 
trial, and that the poor youth must undergo more and more 
desperate struggles with the evil that assailed him. There 25 
was no hope of remedy, save that he showed steadiness of 
mind in the study of the Scriptures. “He suffers,” continued 
the letter of the sage, “from the awakening of those harpies, 
the passions, which have slept with him as with others, till the 
period of life which he ha^ now attained. Better, far better, 3c 
that they torment him by ungrateful cravings, than that he 
should have to repent having satiated them by criminal 
indulgence.” 


XX 


SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION 


The dispositions of the young man were so excellent, that 
he combated, by reason and religion, the fits of gloom which 
at times overcast his mind, and it was not till he attained the 
commencement of his twenty-first year, that they assumed a 
5 character which made his father tremble for the consequences. 
It seemed as if the gloomiest and most hideous of mental 
maladies was taking the form of religious despair. Still the 
youth was gentle, courteous, affectionate, and submissive to 
his father’s will, and resisted with all his power the dark 
io suggestions which were breathed into his mind, as it seemed, 
by some emanation of the Evil Principle, exhorting him, like 
the wicked wife of Job, to curse God and die. 

The time at length arrived when he was to perform what 
was then thought a long and somewhat perilous journey, to 
15 the mansion of the early friend who had calculated his nativity. 
His road lay through several places of interest, and he enjoyed 
the amusement of travelling, more than he himself thought 
would have been possible. Thus he did not reach the place 
of his destination till noon, on the day preceding his birth- 
20 day. It seemed as if he had been carried away with an 
unwonted tide of pleasurable sensation, so as to forget, in 
some degree, what his father had communicated concerning 
the purpose of his journey. He halted at length before a 
respectable but solitary old mansion, to which he was directed 
25 as the abode of his father’s friend. 

The servants who came to take his horse, told him he had 
been expected for two days. He was led into a study, where 
the stranger, now a venerable old man, who had been his 
father’s guest, met him with a shade of displeasure, as well 
30 as gravity, on his brow. “Young ipan,” he said, “wherefore 
so slow on a journey of such importance?” — “I thought,” 
replied the guest, blushing and looking downward, “that there 
was no harm in travelling slowly, and satisfying my curiosity. 


SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 


XXI 


providing I could reach your residence by this day ; for such 
was my father’s charge.” — “You were to blame,” replied the 
sage, “in lingering, considering that the avenger of blood was 
pressing on your footsteps. But you are come at last, and we 
will hope for the best, though the conflict in which you are 5 
to be engaged will be found more dreadful, the longer it is 
postponed. But first, accept of such refreshments as nature 
requires, to satisfy, but not to pamper, the appetite.” 

The old man led the way into a summer parlor, where a 
frugal meal was placed on the table. As they sat down to 10 
the board, they were joined by a young lady about eighteen 
years of age, and so lovely, that the sight of her carried off the 
feelings of the young stranger from the peculiarity and mystery 
of his own lot, and riveted his attention to everything she did 
or said. She spoke little, and it was on the most serious 15 
subjects. She played on the harpsichord at her father’s com- 
mand, but it was hymns with which she accompanied the 
instrument. At length, on a sign from the sage, she left the 
room, turning on the young stranger, as she departed, a look 
of inexpressible anxiety and interest. 20 

The old man then conducted the youth to his study, and 
conversed with him upon the most important points of religion, 
to satisfy himself that he could render a reason for the faith 
that was in him. During the examination, the youth, in spite 
of himself, felt his mind occasionally wander, and his recol- 25 
lections go in quest of the beautiful vision who had shared 
their meal at noon. On such occasions, the Astrologer looked 
grave, and shook his head at this relaxation of attention; 
yet, upon the whole, he was pleased with the youth’s replies. 

At sunset the young man was made to take the bath ; and, 30 
having done so, he was directed to attire himself in a robe, 
somewhat like that worn by Armenians, having his long hair 
combed down to his shoulders, and his neck, hands, and feet 


xxii SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 

bare. In this guise, he was conducted into a remote chamber 
totally devoid of furniture, excepting a lamp, a chair, and a 
table, on which lay a Bible. “Here,” said the Astrologer, “I 
must leave you alone, to pass the most critical period of your 
5 life. If you can, by recollection of the great truths of which 
we have spoken, repel the attacks which will be made on your 
courage and your principles, you have nothing to apprehend. 
But the trial will be severe and arduous.” His features then 
assumed a pathetic solemnity, the tears stood in his eyes and 
iohis voice faltered with emotion as he said, “Dear child, at 
whose coming into the world I foresaw this fatal trial, may 
God give thee grace to support it with firmness ! ” 

The young man was left alone ; and hardly did he find him- 
self so, when, like a swarm of demons, the recollection of all 
is his sins of omission and commission, rendered even more 
terrible by the scrupulousness with which he had been edu- 
cated, rushed on his mind, and, like furies armed with fi.ery 
scourges, seemed determined to drive him to despair. As he 
combated these horrible recollections with distracted feelings, 
20 but with a resolved mind, he became aware that his arguments 
were answered by the sophistry of another, and that the dis- 
pute was no longer confined to his own thoughts. The Author 
of Evil was present in the room with him in bodily shape, and, 
potent with spirits of a melancholy cast, was impressing upon 
2 5 him the desperation of his state, and urging suicide as the 
readiest mode to put an end to his sinful career. Amid his 
errors, the pleasure he had taken in prolonging his journey 
unnecessarily, and the attention which he had bestowed on 
the beauty of the fair female, when his thoughts ought to have 
30 been dedicated to the religious discourse of her father, were 
set before him in the darkest colors; and he was treated as 
one who, having sinned against light, was, therefore, de- 
servedly left a prey to the Prince of Darkness. 


SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 


XXlll 


As the fated and influential hour rolled on, the terrors of the 
hateful Presence grew more confounding to the mortal senses 
of the victim, and the knot of the accursed sophistry became 
more inextricable in appearance, at least to the prey whom its 
meshes surrounded. He had not power to explain the assur- 5 
ance of pardon which he continued to assert, or to name the 
victorious name in which he trussed. But his faith did not 
abandon him, though he lacked for a time the power of ex- 
pressing it. “Say what you will,” was his answer to the 
Tempter; “I know there is as much betwixt the two boards 10 
of this Book as can insure me forgiveness for my transgressions, 
and safety for my soul.” As he spoke, the clock, which an- 
nounced the lapse of the fatal hour, was heard to strike. The 
speech and intellectual powers of the youth were instantly and 
fully restored; he burst forth into prayer, and expressed, in 15 
the most glowing terms, his reliance on the truth, and on 
the Author, of the gospel. The demon retired, yelling 
and discomfited, and the old man, entering the apartment, 
with tears congratulated his guest on his victory in the fated 
struggle. 20 

The young man was afterwards married to the beautiful 
maiden, the first sight of whom had made such an impression 
on him, and they were consigned over at the close of the 
story to domestic happiness. — So ended John MacKinlay’s 
legend. 25 

The author of Waverley had imagined a possibility of fram- 
ing an interesting, and perhaps not an unedifying, tale, out of 
the incidents of the life of a doomed individual, whose efforts 
at good and virtuous conduct were to be forever disappointed 
by the intervention, as it were, of some malevolent being, and 30 
who was at last to come off victorious from the fearful struggle. 

In short, something was meditated upon a .plan resembling 
the imaginative tale of Sintram and his Companions, by Mons. 


XXIV 


SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION 


Le Baron de la Motte Fouque, although, if it then existed, 
the author had not seen it. 

The scheme projected may be traced in the three or four 
first chapters of the work, but further consideration induced 
5 the author to lay his purpose aside. It appeared, on mature 
consideration, that Astrology, though its influence was once 
received and admitted by Bacon himself, does not now retain 
influence over the general mind sufficient even to constitute 
the mainspring of a romance. Besides, it occurred that to 
iodo justice to such a subject would have required not only 
more talent than the author could be conscious of possessing, 
but also involved doctrines and discussions of a nature too 
serious for his purpose, and for the character of the narra- 
tive. In changing his plan, however, which was done in the 
i s course of printing, the early sheets retained the vestiges of the 
original tenor of the story, although they now hang upon 
it as an unnecessary and unnatural incumbrance. The cause 
of such vestiges occurring is now explained, and apologized 
for. 

20 It is here worthy of observation, that while the astrological 
doctrines have fallen into general contempt, and been sup- 
planted by superstitions of a more gross and far less beautiful 
character, they have, even in modern days, retained some 
votaries. 

25 One of the most remarkable believers in that forgotten and 
despised science was a late eminent professor of the art of 
legerdemain. One would have thought that a person of this 
description ought, from his knowledge of the thousand ways 
in which human eyes could be deceived, to have been less 
30 than others subject to the fantasies of superstition. Perhaps 
the habitual use of those abstruse calculations, by which, in a 
manner surprising to the artist himself, many tricks upon 
cards, etc., are performed, induced this gentleman to study the 


SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION 


XXV 


combination of the stars and planets, with the expectation of 
obtaining prophetic communications. 

He constructed a scheme of his own nativity, calculated 
according to such rules of art as he could collect from the 
best astrological authors. The result of the past he found 5 
agreeable to what had hitherto befallen him, but in the im- 
portant prospect of the future a singular difficulty occurred. 
There were two years, during the course of which he could by 
no means obtain any exact knowledge, whether the subject of 
the scheme would be dead or alive. Anxious concerning so 10 
remarkable a circumstance, he gave the scheme to a brother 
Astrologer, who was also baffled in the same manner. At 
one period he found the native, or subject, was certainly alive ; 
at another, that he was unquestionably dead ; but a space of 
two years extended between these two terms, during which 15 
he could find no certainty as to his death or existence. 

The Astrologer marked the remarkable circumstance in his 
Diary, and continued his exhibitions in various parts of the 
empire until the period was about to expire, during which his 
existence had been warranted as actually ascertained. At fast, 20 
while he was exhibiting to a numerous audience his usual 
tricks of legerdemain, the hands, whose activity had so often 
baffled the closest observer, suddenly lost their power, the cards 
dropped from them, and he sunk down a disabled paralytic. 

In this state the artist languished for two years, when he was 25 
at length removed by death. It is said that the Diary of 
this modern Astrologer will soon be given to the public. 

The fact, if truly reported, is one of those singular coin- 
cidences which occasionally appear, differing so widely from 
ordinary calculation, yet without which irregularities, human 30 
life would not present to mortals, looking into futurity, the 
abyss of impenetrable darkness, which it is the pleasure of the 
Creator it should offer to them. Were everything to happen 


XXVI 


SCOTT'S INTRODUCTION 


in the ordinary train of events, the future would be subject 
to the rules of arithmetic, like the chances of gaming. But 
extraordinary events, and wonderful runs of luck, defy the 
calculations of mankind, and throw impenetrable darkness 
5 on future contingencies. 

To the above anecdote, another, still more recent, may be 
here added. The author was lately honored with a letter 
from a gentleman deeply skilled in these mysteries, who kindly 
undertook to calculate the nativity of the writer of “Guy 
io Mannering,” who might be supposed to be friendly to the 
divine art which he professed. But it was impossible to 
supply data for the construction of a horoscope, had the 
native been otherwise desirous of it, since all those who could 
supply the minutiae of day, hour, and minute have been long 
i s removed from the mortal sphere. 

Having thus given some account of the first idea, or rude 
sketch, of the story, which was soon departed from, the author, 
in following out the plan of the present edition, has to mention 
the prototypes of the principal characters in “Guy Manner- 
20 mg.” 

Some circumstances of local situation gave the author, in 
his youth, an opportunity of seeing a little, and hearing a great 
deal, about that degraded class who are called gypsies ; who 
are in most cases a mixed race, between the ancient Egyptians 
25 who arrived in Europe about the beginning of the fifteenth 
century, and vagrants of European descent. 

The individual gypsy, upon whom the character of Meg 
Merrilies was founded, was w r ell known about the middle of 
the last century, by the name of Jean Gordon, an inhabitant 
30 of the village of Kirk Yetholm, in the Cheviot hills, adjoining 
to the English Border. The author gave the public some 
account of this remarkable person, in one of the early numbers 
of Blackwood’s Magazine, to the following purpose : — • 


SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 


XXV11 


“My father remembered old Jean Gordon of Yetholm, who 
had great sway among her tribe. She was quite a Meg Merri- 
lies, and possessed the savage virtue of fidelity in the same 
perfection. Having been often hospitably received at the 
farm-house of Lochside, near Yetholm, she had carefully 
abstained from committing any depredations on the farmer’s 
property. But her sons (nine in number) had not, it seems, 
the same delicacy, and stole a brood-sow from their kind 
entertainer. Jean was mortified at this ungrateful conduct, 
and so much ashamed of it, that she absented herself from 
Lochside for several years. 

“It happened, in course of time, that in consequence of 
some temporary pecuniary necessity, the Goodman of Loch- 
side was obliged to go to Newcastle to raise some money to 
pay his rent. He succeeded in his purpose, but returning 
through the mountains of Cheviot, he was benighted and lost 
his way. 

“A light glimmering through the window of a large waste 
barn, which had survived the farm-house to which it had once 
belonged, guided him to a place of shelter; and when he 
knocked at the door, it was opened by Jean Gordon. Her 
very remarkable figure, for she was nearly six feet high, and 
her equally remarkable features and dress, rendered it im- 
possible to mistake her for a moment, though he had not seen 
her for years ; and to meet with such a character in so solitary 
a place, and probably at no great distance from her clan, was 
a grievous surprise to the poor man, whose rent (to lose which 
would have been ruin) was about his person. 

“Jean set up a loud shout of joyful recognition — ‘Eh, sirs ! 
the winsome Gudeman of Lochside ! Light down, light down ; 
for ye maunna gang farther the night, and a friend’s house sae 
near.’ The farmer was obliged to dismount, and accept of the 
gypsy’s offer of supper and a bed There was plenty of meat 


5 

io 

15 

20 

25 

30 


XXviii SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 

in the barn, however it might be come by, and preparations 
were going on for a plentiful repast, which the farmer, to the 
great increase of his anxiety, observed was calculated for ten 
or twelve guests, of the same description, probably, with his 
5 landlady. 

“Jean left him in no doubt on the subject. She brought to 
his recollection the story of the stolen sow, and mentioned 
how much pain and vexation it had given her. Like other 
philosophers, she remarked that the world grew worse daily ; 
io and, like other parents, that the bairns got out of her guiding, 
and neglected the old gypsy regulations, which commanded 
them to respect, in their depredations, the property of their 
benefactors. The end of all this was, an inquiry what money 
the farmer had about him; and an urgent request, or com- 
1 5 mand, that he would make her his purse-keeper, since the 
bairns, as she called her sons, would be soon home. The 
poor farmer made a virtue of necessity, told his story, and 
surrendered his gold to Jean’s custody. She made him put a 
few shillings in his pocket, observing it would excite suspicion 
20 should he be found travelling altogether penniless. 

“ This arrangement being made, the farmer lay down on a 
sort of shake-down, as the Scotch call it, or bed-clothes dis- 
posed upon some straw, but, as will easily be believed, slept 
not. 

2 5 “About midnight the gang returned, with various articles of 
plunder, and talked over their exploits in language which made 
the farmer tremble. They were not long in discovering they 
had a guest, and demanded of Jean whom she had got there. 

“‘E’en the winsome Gudeman of Lochside, poor body,’ 
30 replied Jean; ‘he’s been at Newcastle seeking siller to pay 
his rent, honest man, but deil-be-lickit he’s been able to 
gather in, and sae he’s gaun e’en hame wi’ a toom purse and a 
sair heart.’ 


SCOTT S INTRODUCTION 


XXIX 


“‘That may be, Jean,’ replied one of the banditti, ‘but we 
maun ripe his pouches a bit, and see if the tale be true or no.’ 
Jean set up her throat in exclamations against this breach of 
hospitality, but without producing any change in their deter- 
mination. The farmer soon heard their stifled whispers and 5 
light steps by his bedside, and understood they were rummag- 
ing his clothes. When they found the money which the 
providence of Jean Gordon had made him retain, they held a 
consultation if they should take it or no ; but the smallness of 
the booty, and the vehemence of Jean’s remonstrances, de- 10 
termined them in the negative. They caroused and went to 
rest. As soon as day dawned, Jean roused her guest, produced 
his horse, which she had accommodated behind the kalian, 
and guided him for some miles, till he was on the high-road 
to Lochside. She then restored his whole property; nor 15 
could his earnest entreaties prevail on her to accept so much 
as a single guinea. 

“I have heard the old people at Jedburgh say, that all Jean’s 
sons were condemned to die there on the same day. It is 
said the jury were equally divided, but that a friend to justice, 20 
who had slept during the whole discussion, waked suddenly, 
and gave his vote for condemnation, in the emphatic words, 

‘ Hang them a’!’ Unanimity is not required in a Scottish 
jury, so the verdict of guilty was returned. Jean was present, 
and only said, ‘ The Lord help the innocent in a day like this I* 25 
Her own death was accompanied with circumstances of brutal 
outrage, of which poor Jean was in many respects wholly un- 
deserving. She had, among other demerits, or merits, as the 
reader may choose to rank it, that of being a stanch Jacobite. 
She chanced to be at Carlisle upon a fair or market-day, soon 30 
after the year 1746, where she gave vent to her political 
partiality, to the great offence of the rabble of that city. Be- 
ing zealous in their loyalty, when there was no danger, in pro- 


XXX 


SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 


portion to the tameness with which they had surrendered to 
the Highlanders in 1745 , the mob inflicted upon poor Jean 
Gordon no slighter penalty than that of ducking her to death 
in the Eden. It was an operation of some time, for Jean was a 
5 stout woman, and, struggling with her murderers, often got her 
head above water ; and, while she had voice left, continued to 
exclaim at such intervals, ‘ Charlie yet! Charlie yet !’ When a 
child, and among the scenes which she frequented, I have 
often heard these stories, and cried piteously for poor Jean 
io Gordon. 

“Before quitting the Border gypsies, I may mention, that 
my grandfather, while riding over Charterhouse moor, then a 
very extensive common, fell suddenly among a large band of 
them, who were carousing in a hollow of the moor, surrounded 
1 5 by bushes. They instantly seized on his horse’s bridle with 
many shouts of welcome, exclaiming (for he was well known to 
most of them) that they had often dined at his expense, and he 
must now stay and share their good cheer. My ancestor was 
a little alarmed, for, like the Goodman of Lochside, he had 
20 more money about his person than he cared to risk in such 
society. However, being naturally a bold, lively-spirited man, 
he entered into the humor of the thing, and sat down to the 
feast, which consisted of all the varieties of game, poultry, 
pigs, and so forth, that could be collected by a wide and indis- 
25 criminate system of plunder. The dinner was a very merry 
one ; but my relative got a hint from some of the older gypsies 
to retire just when — 

‘The mirth and fun grew fast and furious,’ 

and, mounting his horse accordingly, he took a French leave 
30 of his entertainers, but without experiencing the least breach 
of hospitality. I believe Jean Gordon was at this festival.” — 
{Blackwood’s Magazine, vol. i. p. 54 .) 


SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 


XXXI 


Notwithstanding the failure of Jean’s issue, for which, 

Weary fa’ the waefu’ wuddie, 

a granddaughter survived her whom I remember to have 
seen. That is, as Dr. Johnson had a shadowy recollection of 
Queen Anne, as a stately lady in black, adorned with diamonds, 5 
so my memory is haunted by a solemn remembrance of a 
woman of more than female height, dressed in a long red cloak, 
who commenced acquaintance by giving me an apple, but 
whom, nevertheless, I looked on with as much awe, as the 
future Doctor, High Church and Tory as he was doomed to be, 10 
could look upon the Queen. I conceive this woman to have 
been Madge Gordon, of whom an impressive account is given 
in the same article in which her mother Jean is mentioned, but 
not by the present writer : — 

“The late Madge Gordon was at this time accounted the 15 
Queen of the Yetholm clans. She was, we believe, a grand- 
daughter of the celebrated Jean Gordon, and was said to have 
much resembled her in appearance. The following account 
of her is extracted from the letter of a friend, who for many 
years enjoyed frequent and favorable opportunities of observ- 20 
ing the characteristic peculiarities of the Yetholm tribes. — 
‘Madge Gordon was descended from the Faas by the mothers 
side, and was married to a Young. She was a remarkable 
personage — of a very commanding presence, and high stature, 
being nearly six feet high. She had a large aquiline nose — 25 
penetrating eyes, even in her old age — bushy hair, that hung 
around her shoulders from beneath a gypsy bonnet of straw — 
a short cloak of peculiar fashion, and a long staff nearly as 
tall as herself. I remember her well ; — every week she paid 
my father a visit for her awmous, when I was a little boy, and I 30 
looked upon Madge with no common degree of awe and terror. 
When she spoke vehemently (for she made loud complaints) , 


XXX11 


SCOTT’S INTRODUCTION 


she used to strike her staff upon the floor, and throw herself 
into an attitude which it was impossible to regard with indif- 
ference. She used to say that she could bring from the remot- 
est parts of the island, friends to revenge her quarrel, while she 
5 sat motionless in her cottage ; and she frequently boasted that 
there was a time when she was of still more considerable im- 
portance, for there were at her wedding fifty saddled asses, and 
unsaddled asses without number. If Jean Gordon was the 
prototype of the character of Meg Merrilies, I imagine Madge 
i o must have sat to the unknown author as the representative of 
her person . ’ ” — (Blackwood’s Magazine, vol. i. p. 56.) 

How far Blackwood’s ingenious correspondent was right, 
how far mistaken in his conjecture, the reader has been in- 
formed. 

15 To pass to a character of a very different description, 
Dominie Sampson, the reader may easily suppose that a poor 
modest humble scholar, who has won his way through the 
classics, yet has fallen to leeward in the voyage of life, is no 
uncommon personage in a country, where a certain portion of 
20 learning is easily attained by those who are willing to suffer 
hunger and thirst in exchange for acquiring Greek and Latin. 
But there is a far more exact prototype of the worthy Dominie, 
upon which is founded the part which he performs in the 
romance, and which, for certain particular reasons, must be 
25 expressed very generally. 

Such a preceptor as Mr. Sampson is supposed to have been, 
was actually tutor in the family of a gentleman of considerable 
property. The young lads, his pupils, grew up and went out 
in the world, but the tutor continued to reside in the family, 
30 no uncommon circumstance in Scotland (in former days), 
where food and shelter were readily afforded to humble friends 
and dependents. The Laird’s predecessors had been im- 
prudent, he himself was passive and unfortunate. Death 


SCOTT S INTRODUCTION 


xxxiii 

swept away his sons, whose success in life might have 
balanced his own bad luck and incapacity. Debts increased 
and funds diminished, until ruin came. The estate was sold ; 
and the old man was about to remove from the house of his 
fathers, to go he knew not whither, when, like an old piece 5 
of furniture, which, left alone in its wonted corner, may hold 
together for a long while, but breaks to pieces on an attempt 
to move it, he fell down on his own threshold under a paralytic 
affection. 

The tutor awakened as from a dream. He saw his patron 10 
dead, and that his patron’s only remaining child, an elderly 
woman, now neither graceful nor beautiful, if she had ever 
been either the one or the other, had by this calamity become 
a homeless and penniless orphan. He addressed her nearly 
in the words which Dominie Sampson uses to Miss Bertram, 15 
and professed his determination not to leave her. Accord- 
ingly, roused to the exercise of talents which had long slum- 
bered, he opened a little school, and supported his patron’s 
child for the rest of her life, treating her with the same humble 
observance and devoted attention which he had used towards 20 
her in the days of her prosperity. 

Such is the outline of Dominie Sampson’s real story, in 
which there is neither romantic incident nor sentimental 
passion; but which, perhaps, from the rectitude and sim- 
plicity of character which it displays, may interest the heart 25 
and fill the eye of the reader as irresistibly as if it respected 
distresses of a more dignified or refined character. 

These preliminary notices concerning the tale of “Guy 
Mannering,” and some of the characters introduced, may save 
the author and reader, in the present instance, the trouble of 30 
writing and perusing a long string of detached notes. 

Walter Scott. 


Abbotsford, January 1829 . 








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CHRONOLOGY OF SCOTT’S LIFE AND 
WRITINGS 

Born at Edinburgh, August 15, 1771. 

Became lame from teething fever and sent to farm of paternal 
grandfather, 1773. 

Returned to father’s home in Edinburgh, 1778. 

Entered Edinburgh High School, 1778. 

Entered Edinburgh College, 1783. 

Became apprentice in father’s law office, 1785. 

Began to study for the bar, 1789. 

Admitted to the bar, 1792. 

Published translation of Burger’s Lenore and The Wild Hunts- 
man , October, 1796. 

Married Charlotte Margaret Carpenter, 1797. 

Translation of Gotz von Berliehingen, 1799. 

Published original ballads, Glenfinlas, The Eve of St. John, 
The Grey Brother , etc., 1799. 

Appointed Sheriff-Deputy of Selkirkshire, salary, three hundred 
pounds a year, 1799. 

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 

Volumes I and II, January, 1802. 

Volume III, May, 1803. 

Took up residence at Ashestiel, 1804. 

Sir Tristram, May, 1804. 

Lay of the Last Minstrel , January, 1805. 

Became a partner in the printing house of Ballantyne, 1805. 
Began edition of Dryden’s Works, 1805. 

Made Clerk of Sessions, 1806. 

Marmion, February, 1808. 


xxxv 


xxxvi CHRONOLOGY OF LIFE AND WRITINGS 


Edition of Dryden, April, 1808. 

The Lady of the Lake, May, 1810. 

The Vision of Don Roderick , 1811. 

Purchased Abbotsford, 1812. 

Rokeby, December, 1812. 

Bridal of Triermain, 1813. 

Life of Swift, Jtily, 1814. 

Waverley, July, 1814. 

The Lord of the Isles, January, 1815. 

Guy Mannering, February, 1815. 

The Field of Waterloo, 1815. 

Paul's Letters to His Kinsfolk, 1816. 

The Antiquary, May, 1816. 

Tales of My Landlord (first series), December, 1816. 

Old Mortality. 

The Black Dwarf. 

Harold the Dauntless, 1817. 

Rob Roy, December, 1817. 

Tales of My Landlord (second series), June, 1818. 

Heart of Midlothian. 

Tales of My Landlord (third series), June, 1819. 

Bride of Lammermoor. 

Legend of Montrose. 

Offered baronetcy by Prince Regent, 1818. 

Ivanhoe, 1819. 

Went up to London to receive baronetcy, 1820. 

The Monastery, March, 1820. 

The Abbot, September, 1820. 

Elected President of the Edinburgh Royal Society, 1820. 
Kenilworth, January, 1821. 

The Pirate, December, 1821. 

The Fortunes of Nigel, May, 1822. * 0; ' 

Peveril of the Peak, January, 1823. 

Quentin Durward, June, 1823. 

St. Ronan's Well, December, 1823. 

Began Life of Napoleon and Woodstock, 1824. 

Redgauntlet, June, 1824. 


CHRONOLOGY OF LIFE AND WRITINGS XXX vii 


Tales of the Crusaders , June, 1825. 

The Betrothed. 

The Talisman. 

Abbotsford completed, February, 1825. 

Visited Ireland, 1825. 

Ballantyne and Company failed for £117,000, January, 1826. 
Lady Scott died, May, 1826. 

Woodstock, 1826. 

Life of Napoleon, July, 1827. 

Letters of Malachi Magrowther. 

First series, 1827, second series, 1828, third series, 1829, 
fourth series, 1830. 

Tales of a Grandfather, first series, 1827, second series, 1828, 
third series, 1829, fourth series, History of France, 1830. 
Chronicles of the Canongate (second series), 1828. 

The Fair Maid of Perth. 

Anne of Geierstein, May, 1829. 

Experienced apoplectic attack, February, 1830. 

Letters on Demonology, 1830. 

Second apoplectic attack, April, 1831. 

Tales of my Landlord (fourth series), 1832. 

Count Robert of Paris. 

Castle Dangerous. 

Visited Italy, October, 1831-July, 1832. 

Wrote The Siege of Malta and II Bizarro (unpublished). 

Died September 21, 1832. 


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GUY MANNERING 


CHAPTER I 

• 

He could not deny, that looking round upon the dreary 
region, and seeing nothing but bleak fields, and naked trees, 
hills obscured by fogs, and flats covered with inundations, 
he did for some time suffer melancholy to prevail upon him, 
and wished himself again safe at home. 

Travels of Will. Marvel, ° Idler, No. 49. 

It was in the beginning of the month of November, 17 — , 
when a young English gentleman, who had just left the 
university of Oxford, made use of the liberty afforded him, 
to visit some parts of the north of England; and curiosity 
extended his tour into the adjacent frontier of the sister 5 
country. He had visited, on the day that opens our history, 
some monastic ruins in the county of Dumfries, and spent 
much of the day in making drawings of them from different 
points ; so that, on mounting his horse to resume his journey, 
the brief and gloomy twilight of the season had already com- ic 
menced. His way lay through a wide tract of black moss, 
extending for miles on each side and before him. 

As the light grew faint and more faint, and the morass 
appeared blacker and blacker, our traveller questioned more 
closely each chance passenger on his distance from the village 15 
of Kippletringan, where he proposed to quarter for the night. 
b 1 


2 


GUY M ANNE RING 


His queries were usually answered by a counter-challenge 
respecting the place from whence he came. While sufficient 
daylight remained to show the dress and appearance of a 
gentleman, these cross interrogatories were usually put in 
5 the form of a case supposed, as, “Ye’ll hae been at the auld 
abbey o’ Halycross, sir? there’s mony English gentlemen 
gang to see that.” — Or, “Your honor will be come frae 
the house o’ Pouderloupat ? ” But when the voice of the 
querist alone was distinguishable, the response usually was, 
io “Where are ye coming frae at sic a time o’ night as the like 
o’ tlfis?” — or, “Ye’ll no be o’ this country, freend?” The 
answers, when obtained, were neither very reconcilable to 
each other, nor accurate in the information which they 
v afforded. Kippletringan was distant at first “a gey bit”; 
is then the “gey bit ” was more accurately described, as “ ablins 
three mile” ; then the “ three mile” diminished into “like a 
mile and a bittock” ; then extended themselves into “ four 
mile or thereawa” ; and, lastly, a female voice, having 
hushed a wailing infant which the spokeswoman carried in 
20 her arms, assured Guy Mannering, “It was a weary lang 
gate yet to Kippletringan, and unco heavy road for foot 
passengers.” 

It was now very cloudy, although the stars, from time to 
time, shed a twinkling and uncertain light. Hitherto nothing 
25 had broken the silence around him, but the deep cry of the 
bog-blitter, or bull-of-the-bog, a large species of bittern ; and 
the sighs of the wind as it passed along the dreary morass. 
To these was now joined the distant roar of the ocean, towards 
which the traveller seemed to be fast approaching. This was 
30 no circumstance to make his mind easy. Many of the roads 
in that country lay along the sea-beach, and were liable to be 
flooded by the tides, which rise with great height, and advance 
with extreme rapidity. Others were intersected with creeks 


GUY M ANNE RING 


3 


and small inlets, which it was only safe to pass at particular 
times of the tide. Neither circumstance would have suited 
a dark night, a fatigued horse, and a traveller ignorant of his 
road. Mannering resolved, therefore, definitely to halt for 
the night at the first inhabited place, however poor, he might 5 
chance to reach, unless he could procure a guide to this un- 
lucky village of Kippletringan. 

A miserable hut gave him an opportunity to execute his 
purpose. He found out the door with no small difficulty, 
and for some time knocked without producing any other 10 
answer than a duet between a female and a cur-dog, the 
latter yelping as if he would have barked his heart out, 
the other screaming in chorus. By degrees the human 
tones predominated; but the angry bark of the cur being 
at the instant changed into a howl, it is probable some- 15 
thing more than fair strength of lungs had contributed to the 
ascendency. 

“Sorrow be in your thrapple then!” these were the first 
articulate words, “will ye no let me hear what the man wants, 
wi’ your yaffing?” 20 

“Am I far from Kippletringan, good dame?” 

“Frae Kippletringan! ! !” in an exalted tone of wonder, 
which we can but faintly express by three points of admira- 
tion ; “ Ow, man ! ye should hae hadden eassel to Kipple- 
tringan — ye maun gae back as far as the Whaap, and haud 25 

the Whaap 1 till ye come to Ballenloan, and then ” 

“This will never do, good dame! my horse is almost quite 
knocked up — can you not give me a night’s lodgings ? ’* 
“Troth can I no — I am a lone woman, for James he’s awa 
to Drumshourloch fair with the year-aulds, and I daurna for 30 

1 The hope, often pronounced Whaap, is the sheltered part 
or hollow of the hill. Hoff, howff, haaf, and haven , are all 
modifications of the same word. 


4 


GUY M ANNE RING 


my life open the door to ony o’ your gang-there-out sort o’ 
bodies.” 

“But what must I do then, good dame? for I can’t sleep 
here upon the road all night.” 

S “Troth, I kenna, unless ye like to gae down and speer for 
quarters at the Place. I’se warrant they’ll tak ye in, whether 
ye be gentle or semple.” 

“Simple enough, to be wandering here at such a time of 
night,” thought Mannering, who was ignorant of the meaning 
io of the phrase ; “but how shall I get to the place, as you call it ? ” 

“Ye maun haud wessel by the end o’ the loan, and take tent 
o’ the jaw-hole.” 

“0, if ye get to eassel and wessel 1 again, I am undone ! — ■ 
Is there nobody that could guide me to this place ? I will pay 
is him handsomely.” 

The word pay operated like magic. “Jock, ye villain,” 
exclaimed the voice from the interior, “are ye lying routing 
there, and a young gentleman seeking the way to the Place ? 
Get up, ye fause loon, and show him the way down the muckle 
20 loaning. — He’ll show you the way, sir, and I’se warrant 
ye’ll be weel put up ; for they never turn awa naebody frae 
the door ; and ye’ll be come in the canny moment, I’m think- 
ing, for the laird’s servant — that’s no to say his body- 
servant, but the helper like — rade express by this e’en to 
25 fetch the houdie, and he just staid the drinking o’ twa 
pints o’ tippenny, to tell us how my leddy was ta’en wi’ her 
pains.” 

“Perhaps,” said Mannering, “at such a time a stranger’s 
arrival might be inconvenient?” 

30 “Hout, na, ye needna be blate about that; their house is 
muckle eneugh, and decking 2 time’s aye canty time.” 

1 Provincial for eastward and westward. 

2 Hatching time. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


5 


By this time Jock had found his way into all the intricacies 
of a tattered doublet, and more tattered pair of breeches, and 
sallied forth, a great white-headed, bare-legged, lubberly boy 
of twelve years old, so exhibited by the glimpse of a rush-light, 
which his half-naked mother held in such a manner as to get 5 
a peep at the stranger, without greatly exposing herself to view 
in return. Jock moved on westward, by the end of the house, 
leading Mannering’s horse by the bridle, and piloting, with 
some dexterity, along the little path which bordered the 
formidable jaw-hole, whose vicinity the stranger was made 10 
sensible of by means of more organs than one. His guide 
then dragged the weary hack along a broken and stony cart- 
track, next over a ploughed field, then broke down a slajp, as 
he called it, in a dry-stone fence, and lugged the unresisting 
animal through the breach, about a rood of the simple masonry 1 5 
giving way in the splutter with which he passed. Finally, he 
led the way, through a wicket, into something which had still 
the air of an avenue, though many of the trees were felled. 
The roar of the ocean was now near and full, and the moon, 
which began to make her appearance, gleamed on a turreted 20 
and apparently a ruined mansion, of considerable extent. 
Mannering fixed his eyes upon it with a disconsolate sensation. 

“Why, my little fellow,” he said, “this is a ruin, not a 
house?” 

“Ah, but the lairds lived there langsyne — that’s Elian- 25 
gowan Auld Place ; there’s a hantle bogles about it — but 
ye needna be feared — I never saw ony mysell, and we’re 
just at the door o’ the New Place.” 

Accordingly, leaving the ruins on the right, a few steps 
brought the traveller in front of a modern house of moderate 30 
size, at which his guide rapped with great importance. Man- 
nering told his circumstances to the servant ; and the gentle- 
man of the house, who heard his tale from the parlor, stepped 


6 


GUY MANNERING 


forward, and welcomed the stranger hospitably to Ellangowan. 
The boy, made happy with half-a-crown, was dismissed to his 
cottage, the weary horse was conducted to a stall, and Man- 
nering found himself in a few minutes seated by a comfortable 
5 supper, for which his cold ride gave him a hearty appetite. 


CHAPTER II 


Comes me cranking in, 

And cuts me from the best of all my land, 

A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out.° 

Henry IV., Part I. 

The company in the parlor at Ellangowan consisted of the 
Laird, and a sort of person who might be the village school- 
master, or perhaps the minister’s assistant; his appearance 
was too shabby to indicate the minister, considering he was 
on a visit to the Laird. 5 

The Laird himself was one of those second-rate sort of 
persons, that are to be found frequently in rural situations. 
Fielding has described one class as feras consumere nati; ° but 
the love of field-sports indicates a certain activity of mind, 
which had forsaken Mr. Bertram, if ever he possessed it. A io 
good-humored listlessness of countenance formed the only 
remarkable expression of his features, although they were 
rather handsome than otherwise. In fact, his physiognomy 
indicated the inanity of character which pervaded his life. I 
will give the reader some insight into his state and con versa- 15 
tion, before he has finished a long lecture to Mannering, upon 
the propriety and comfort of wrapping his stirrup-irons round 
with a wisp of straw when he had occasion tc ride in a chill 
evening. 

Godfrey Bertram, of Ellangowan, succeeded to a long 20 
pedigree, and a short rent-roll, like many lairds of that period. 
His list of forefathers ascended so high, that they were lost 

7 


8 


GUY M ANNE RING 


in the barbarous ages of Galwegian independence; so that 
his genealogical tree, besides the Christian and crusading 
names of Godfreys, and Gilberts, and Dennises, and Rolands, 
without end, bore heathen fruit of yet darker ages, — Arths, 
5 and Knarths, and Donagilds, and Hanlons. In truth, they 
had been formerly the stormy chiefs of a desert, but extensive 
domain, and the heads of a numerous tribe, called Mac- 
Dingawaie, though they afterwards adopted the Norman sur- 
name of Bertram. They had made war, raised rebellions, 
io been defeated, beheaded, and hanged, as became a family of 
importance, for many centuries. But they had gradually lost 
ground in the world, and, from being themselves the heads 
of treason and traitorous conspiracies, the Bertrams, or Mac- 
Dingawaies, of Ellangowan, had sunk into subordinate accom- 
iS plices. Their most fatal exhibitions in this capacity took 
place in the seventeenth century, when the foul fiend pos- 
sessed them with a spirit of contradiction, which uniformly 
involved them in controversy with the ruling powers. 

Allan Bertram of Ellangowan, who flourished tempore Caroli 
20 primi,° was, says my authority, Sir Robert Douglas, in his 
Scottish Baronage (see the title Ellangowan), “a steady 
loyalist, and full of zeal for the cause of his sacred majesty, 
in which he united with the great Marquis of Montrose, and 
other truly zealous and honorable patriots, and sustained 
25 great losses in that behalf. He had the honor of knight- 
hood conferred upon him by his most sacred majesty, and 
was sequestrated as a malignant by the parliament, 1642, 
and afterwards as a resolutioner, in the year 1648.’' — These 
two cross-grained epithets of malignant and resolutioner cost 
30 poor Sir Allan one half of the family estate. His son Dennis 
Bertram married a daughter of an eminent fanatic, who had 
a seat in the council of state, and saved by that union the 
remainder of the family property. But, as ill chance would 


GUY MANNERING 


9 


have it, he became enamored of the lady’s principles as well 
as of her charms, and my author gives him this character : 
“He was a man of eminent parts and resolution, for which 
reason he was chosen by the western counties one of the 
committee of noblemen and gentlemen, to report their griefs s> 
to the privy council of Charles II. anent the coming in of 
the Highland host in 1678.” For undertaking this patriotic 
task he underwent a fine, to pay which he was obliged to 
mortgage half of the remaining moiety of his paternal property. 
This loss he might have recovered by dint of severe economy, iq) 
but on the breaking out of Argyle’s rebellion , 0 Dennis Bertram 
was again suspected by government, apprehended, sent to 
Dunnottar Castle on the coast of the Mearns, and there broke 
his neck in an attempt to escape from a subterranean habita- 
tion, called the Whigs’ Vault, in which he was confined with 
some eighty of the same persuasion. The apprizer, therefore 
(as the holder of a mortgage was then called), entered upon 
possession, and, in the language of Hotspur, “came me 
cranking in,” ° and cut the family out of another monstrous 
cantle of their remaining property. 20 

Donohoe Bertram, with somewhat of an Irish name, and 
somewhat of an Irish temper, succeeded to the diminished 
property of Ellangowan. He turned out of doors the Rev. 
Aaron Macbriar, his mother’s chaplain (it is said they quar- 
relled about the good graces of a milkmaid), drank himself 2 $ 
daily drunk with brimming healths to the king, council, 
and bishops ; held orgies with the Laird of Lagg, Theophilus 
Oglethorpe, and Sir James Turner; and lastly, took his gray 
gelding, and joined Clavers at Killiecrankie. At the skirmish 
of Dunkeld, 1689, he was shot dead by a Cameronian with 36 ; 
a silver button (being supposed to have proof from the Evil 
One against lead and steel), and his grave is still called the 
“ Wicked Laird’s Lair.” 


10 


GUY M ANNE RING 


His son, Lewis, had more prudence than seems usually to 
have belonged to the family. He nursed what property was 
yet left to him ; for Donohoe’s excesses, as well as fines and 
forfeitures, had made another inroad upon the estate. And 
5 although even he did not escape the fatality which induced 
the Lairds of Ellangowan to interfere with politics, he had 
yet the prudence, ere he went out with Lord Kenmore 0 in 
1715 , to convey his estate to trustees, in order to parry pains 
and penalties, in case the Earl of Mar could not put down 
io the Protestant succession. 0 But Scylla and Charybdis 0 — a 
. word to the wise — he only saved his estate at expense of a 
lawsuit, which again subdivided the family property. He was, 
however, a man of resolution. He sold part of the lands, 
evacuated the old castle, where the family lived in their 
15 decadence, as a mouse (said an old farmer) lives under a 
firlot. Pulling down part of these venerable ruins, he built 
with the stones a narrow house of three stories high, 
with a front like a grenadier’s cap, having in the very 
centre a round window, like the single eye of a Cyclops, 0 
20 two windows on each side, and a door in the middle, lead- 
ing to a parlor and withdrawing room, full of all manner of 
cross lights. 

This was the New Place of Ellangowan, in which we left 
our hero, better amused perhaps than our readers, and to this 
25 Lewis Bertram retreated, full of projects for re-establishing 
the prosperity of his family. He took some land into his 
own hand, rented some from neighboring proprietors, bought 
and sold Highland cattle and Cheviot sheep, rode to fairs 
and trysts, fought hard bargains, and held necessity at the 
30 staff’s end as well as he might. But what he gained in purse, 
he lost in honor, for such agricultural and commercial nego- 
tiations were very ill looked upon by his brother lairds, 
who minded nothing but cock-fighting, hunting, coursing, 


GUY M ANNE RING 


11 


and horse-racing, with now and then the alternation of a 
desperate duel. The occupations which he followed en- 
croached, in their opinion, upon the article of Ellangowan’s 
gentry, and he found it necessary gradually to estrange him- 
self from their society, and sink into what was then a very 5 
ambiguous character, a gentleman farmer. In the midst of 
his schemes death claimed his tribute, and the scanty remains 
of a large property descended upon Godfrey Bertram, the 
present possessor, his only son. 

The danger of the father’s speculations was soon seen. 10 
Deprived of Laird Lewis’s personal and active superintend- 
ence, all his undertakings miscarried, and became either abor- 
tive or perilous. Without a single spark of energy to meet or 
repel these misfortunes, Godfrey put his faith in the activity of 
another. He kept neither hunters, nor hounds, nor any other is 
southern preliminaries to ruin; but, as has been observed of 
his countrymen, he kept a man of business, who answered the 
purpose equally well. Under this gentleman’s supervision 
small debts grew into large, interests were accumulated upon 
capitals, movable bonds became heritable, and law charges 20 
were heaped upon all ; though Ellangowan possessed so little 
the spirit of a litigant, that he was on two occasions charged to 
make payment of the expenses of a long lawsuit, although he 
had never before heard that he had such cases in court. 
Meanwhile his neighbors predicted his final ruin. Those of 25 
the higher rank, with some malignity, accounted him already 
a degraded brother. The lower classes, seeing nothing envi- 
able in his situation, marked his embarrassments with more 
compassion. He was even a kind of favorite with them, and 
upon the division of a common, or the holding of a black- 30 
fishing, or poaching court, or any similar occasion, when they 
conceived themselves oppressed by the gentry, they were in 
the habit of saying to each other, “Ah, if Ellangowan, honest 


12 


GUY MANNERIXG 


man, had his ain that his forebears had afore him, he wadna 
see the puir folk trodden down this gait.” 

A circumstance arrested Ellangowan’s progress on the high 
road to ruin. This was his marriage with a lady who had 
5 a portion of about four thousand pounds. Nobody in the 
neighborhood could conceive why she married him, and en- 
dowed him with her wealth, unless because he had a tall, 
handsome figure, a good set of features, a genteel address, 
and the most perfect good-humor. It might be some addi- 
io tional consideration, that she was herself at the reflecting age 
of twenty-eight, and had no near relations to control her 
actions or choice. 

It was in this lady’s behalf (confined for the first time after 
her marriage) that the speedy and active express, mentioned 
is by the old dame of the cottage, had been despatched to 
Kippletringan on the night of Mannering’s arrival. 

Though we have said so much of the Laird himself, it still 
remains that we make the reader in some degree acquainted 
with his companion. This was Abel Sampson, commonly 
20 called, from his occupation as a pedagogue, Dominie Samp- 
son. He was of low birth, but having evinced, even from his 
cradle, an uncommon seriousness of disposition, the poor 
parents were encouraged to hope that their bairn, as they 
expressed it, “might wag his pow in a pulpit yet.” With an 
25 ambitious view to such consummation, they pinched and 
pared, rose early and lay down late, ate dry bread and drank 
cold water, to secure to Abel the means of learning. Mean- 
time, his tall, ungainly figure, his taciturn and grave manners, 
and some grotesque habits of swinging his limbs, and screwing 
30 his visage, while reciting his task, made poor Sampson the 
ridicule of all his school-companions. The same qualities 
secured him at Glasgow college a plentiful share of the same 
sort of notice. Half the youthful mob “of the yards” 0 used 


GUY M ANNE RING 


13 


to assemble regularly to see Dominie Sampson (for he had 
already attained that honorable title) descend the stairs from 
the Greek class, with his Lexicon under his arm, his long 
misshapen legs sprawling abroad, and keeping awkward time 
to the play of his immense shoulder-blades, as they raised and 5 
depressed the loose and threadbare black coat which was his 
constant and only wear. When he spoke, the efforts of the 
professor (professor of divinity though he was) were totally 
inadequate to restrain the inextinguishable laughter of the 
students, and sometimes even to repress his own. The long, 10 
sallow visage, the goggle eyes, the huge under- jaw, which 
appeared not to open and shut by an act of volition, but to be 
dropped and hoisted up again by some complicated machinery 
within the inner man, — the harsh and dissonant voice, and 
the screech-owl notes to which it was exalted when he was ex- 15 
horted to pronounce more distinctly, — all added fresh subject 
for mirth to the torn cloak and shattered shoe, which have 
afforded legitimate subjects of raillery against the poor scholar, 
from Juvenal’s 0 time downward. It was never known that 
Sampson either exhibited irritability at this ill usage, or made 20 
the least attempt to retort upon his tormentors. He slunk 
from college by the most secret paths he could discover, 
and plunged himself into his miserable lodgings, where, for 
eighteenpence a week, he was allowed the benefit of a straw 
mattress, and, if his landlady was in good humor, permission 25 
to study his task by her fire. Under all these disadvantages, 
he obtained a competent knowledge of Greek and Latin, and 
some acquaintance with the sciences. 

In progress of time, Abel Sampson, probationer of divinity, 
was admitted to the privileges of a preacher. But, alas ! partly 30 
from his own bashfulness, partly owing to a strong and obvious 
disposition to risibility which pervaded the congregation upon 
his first attempt, he became totally incapable of proceeding in 


14 


GUY M ANNE RING 


his intended discourse, gasped, grinned, hideously rolled his 
eyes till the congregation thought them flying out of his head, 
shut the Bible, stumbled down the pulpit-stairs, trampling 
upon the old women who generally take their station there, 
5 and was ever after designated as a “stickit minister.” And 
thus he wandered back to his own country, with blighted 
hopes and prospects, to share the poverty of his parents. As 
he had neither friend nor confidant, hardly even an acquaint- 
ance, no one had the means of observing closely how Dominie 
io Sampson bore a disappointment which supplied the whole 
town with a week’s sport. It would be endless even to men- 
tion the numerous jokes to which it gave birth, from a ballad, 
called “Sampson’s Riddle,” written upon the subject by a 
smart young student of humanity, to the sly hope of the 
is Principal, that the fugitive had not, in imitation of his mighty 
namesake, 0 taken the college gates along with him in his 
retreat. 

To all appearance, the equanimity of Sampson was un- 
shaken. He sought to assist his parents by teaching a school, 
20 and soon had plenty of scholars, but very few fees. In fact, 
he taught the sons of farmers for what they chose to give him, 
and the poor for nothing ; and, to the shame of the former be 
it spoken, the pedagogue’s gains never equalled those of a 
skilful ploughman. He wrote, however, a good hand, and 
25 added something to his pittance by copying accounts and 
writing letters for Ellangowan. By degrees, the Laird, who 
was much estranged from general society, became partial to 
that of Dominie Sampson. Conversation, it is true, was out 
of the question, but the Dominie was a good listener, and 
30 stirred the fire with some address. He attempted even to 
snuff the candles, but was unsuccessful, and relinquished that 
ambitious post of courtesy after having twice reduced the 
parlor to total darkness. So his civilities, thereafter, were 


GUY M ANNE RING 


15 


confined to taking off his glass of ale in exactly the same time 
and measure with the Laird, and in uttering certain indistinct 
murmurs of acquiescence at the conclusion of the long and 
winding stories of Ellangowan. 

On one of these occasions, he presented for the first time to 5 
Mannering his tall, gaunt, awkward, bony figure, attired in a 
threadbare suit of black, with a colored handkerchief, not 
over clean, about his sinewy, scraggy neck, and his nether 
person arrayed in gray breeches, dark-blue stockings, clouted 
shoes, and small copper buckles. 10 

Such is a brief outline of the lives and fortunes of those two 
persons, in whose society Mannering now found himself com- 
fortably seateci. 


CHAPTER III 


Do not the hist’ries of all ages 
Relate miraculous presages, 

Of strange turns in the world’s affairs, 

Foreseen by Astrologers, Sooth-say ers, 

Chaldeans, learned Genethliacs, 0 
And some that have writ almanacks? 

Hudibras. 0 

The circumstances of the landlady were pleaded to Man- 
nering, first, as an apology for her not appearing to welcome 
her guest, and for those deficiencies in his entertainment 
which her attention might have supplied, and then as an 
S excuse for pressing an extra bottle of good wine. 

“I cannot weel sleep,” said the Laird, with the anxious 
feelings of a father in such a predicament, “till I hear she’s 
gotten ower with it — and if you, sir, are not very sleepry, and 
would do me and the Dominie the honor to sit up wi’ us, I 
io am sure we shall not detain you very late. Luckie Howatson 
is very expeditious; — there was ance a lass — ” 

Here the narrative of the Laird was interrupted by the 
voice of some one ascending the stairs from the kitchen story, 
and singing at full pitch of voice. The high notes were too 
is shrill for a man, the low seemed too deep for a woman. The 
words, as far as Mannering could distinguish them, seemed 
to run thus : 

“Canny moment, lucky fit; 

Is the lady lighter yet ? 

Be it lad, or be it lass, 

Sign wi’ cross, and sain wi’ mass.” 

16 


20 


GUY M ANNE RING 


17 


“It’s Meg Merrilies, the gypsy, as sure as I am a sinner,” 
said Mr. Bertram. At this moment the door opened, and 
Meg Merrilies entered. 

Her appearance made Mannering start. She was full six 
feet high, wore a man’s great-coat over the rest of her dress, 5 
had in her hand a goodly sloe-thorn cudgel, and in all points 
of equipment, except her petticoats, seemed rather masculine 
than feminine. Her dark elf-locks shot out like the snakes 
of the gorgon, between an old-fashioned bonnet called a 
bongrace, heightening the singular effect of her strong and io 
weather-beaten features, which they partly shadowed, while 
her eye had a wild roll that indicated something like real or 
affected insanity. 

“Aweel, Ellangowan,” she said, “wad it no hae been a 
bonnie thing, an the leddy had been brought-to-bed, and me 15 
at the fair o’ Drumshourloch, no kenning, nor dreaming a 
word about it ? Wha was to hae keepit awa the worriecows, I 
trow? Ay, and the elves and gyre-carlings frae the bonny 
bairn, grace be wi’ it ? Ay, or said Saint Colme’s charm for 
its sake, the dear?” And without waiting an answer she 
began to sing — 

“Trefoil, vervain, John’s-wort, dill,° 

Hinders witches of their will ; 

Weel is them, that weel may. 

Fast upon St. Andrew’s day. 25 

Saint Bride and her brat, 

Saint Colme and his cat, 

Saint Michael and his spear, 

Keep the house frae reif and wear.” 

This charm she sung to a wild tune, in a high and shrill voice, 30 
and, cutting three capers with such strength and agility, as 
almost to touch the roof of the room, concluded, “And now, 
Laird, will ye no order me a tass o’ brandy?” 
c 


18 


GUY MANNERING 


“That you shall have, Meg — Sit down yont there at the 
door, and tell us what news ye have heard at the fair o’ 
Dr umshourloch . ’ 5 

“Troth, Laird, and there was muckle want o’ you r J 
5 like o’ you; for there was a whin bonnie lasses the ye 

mysell, and deil ane to gie them hansels.” 

“Weel, Meg, and how mony gypsies were sent to the tol- 
booth ? ” 

“Troth, but three, Laird, for there were nae mair in the 
io fair^bye mysell, as I said before, and I e’en gae them leg-bail, 0 
fol^ there’s nae ease in dealing wi’ quarrelsome fowk. And 
there’s Dunbog has warned the Red Rotten and John Young 
aff his grunds — black be his cast ! he’s nae gentleman, nor 
drap’s bluid o’ gentleman, wad grudge twa gangrel puir bodies 
is the shelter o’ a waste house, and the thristles by the road-side 
for a bit cuddy, and the bits o’ rotten birk to boil their drap 
parritch wi’. Weel, there’s ane abune a’ — but we’ll see if 
the red cock craw not in his bonnie barn-yard ae morning 
before day-dawing.” 

20 “Hush ! Meg, hush ! hush ! that’s not safe talk.” 

“What does she mean?” said Mannering to Sampson, in 
an undertone. 

“Fire-raising,” answered the laconic Dominie. 

“Who, or what is she, in the name of wonder?” 

25 “Harlot, thief, witch, and gypsy,” answered Sampson again. 

“Oh, troth, Laird,” continued Meg, during this by-talk, 
“it’s but to the like o’ you ane can open their heart ; ye see, 
they say Dunbog is nae mair a gentleman than the blunker 
that’s biggit the bonnie house down in the howm. But the 
30 like o’ you, Laird, that’s a real gentleman for sae mony hun- 
dred years, and never hunds puir fowk aff your grund as if 
they were mad tykes, nane o’ our fowk wad stir your gear if 
ye had as mony capons as there’s leaves on the try sting-tree. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


19 


— And now some o’ ye maun lay down your watch, and tell 
me the very minute o’ the hour the wean’s born, and I’ll spae 
its fortune.” 

°' c ' >t, Meg, we shall not want your assistance, for here’s 
a stflfifep- ?om Oxford that kens much better than you how to 5 
spae its .1 rtune — he does it by the stars.” 

“Certainly, sir,” said Mannering, entering into the simple 
humor of his landlord, “I will calculate his nativity accord- 
ing to the rule of the Triplicites, 0 as recommended by Pythag- 
oras, Hippocrates, Diodes, and Avicenna. 0 Or I will be T in 10 
ab hora questionis ,° as Haly, Messahala, Ganwehis, and Gu o 
Bonatus, have recommended.” 

One of Sampson’s great recommendations to the favor of 
Mr. Bertram was, that he never detected the most gross 
attempt at imposition, so that the Laird, whose humble efforts 15 
at jocularity were chiefly confined to what were then called 
bites and bams, since denominated hoaxes and quizzes, had the 
fairest possible subject of wit in the unsuspecting Dominie. 

It is true, he never laughed, or joined in the laugh which his 
own simplicity afforded — nay, it is said, he never laughed but 20 
once in his life ; and on that memorable occasion his landlady 
miscarried, partly through surprise at the event itself, and 
partly from terror at the hideous grimaces which attended this 
unusual cachinnation. The only effect which the discovery of 
such impositions produced upon this saturnine personage was, 25 
to extort an ejaculation of “Prodigious ! ” or “Very facetious ! ” 
pronounced syllabically, but without moving a muscle of his 
own countenance. 

On the present occasion, he turned a gaunt and ghastly 
stare upon the youthful astrologer, and seemed to doubt if he 30 
had rightly understood his answer to his patron. 

“I am afraid, sir,” said Mannering, turning towards him, 
“you may be one of those unhappy persons, who, their dim 


20 


GUY MANNERING 


eyes being unable to penetrate the starry spheres, and to 
discern therein the decrees of heaven at a distance, have their 
hearts barred against conviction by prejudice and misprision.” 

“Truly,” said Sampson, “I opine with Sir Isaac Newton, 
S Knight, and umwhiie master of his Majesty’s mint, that the 
(pretended) science of astrology is altogether vain, frivolous, 
and unsatisfactory.” 

At length, the joyful annunciation that the lady had pre- 
sented her husband with a fine boy, and was (of course) as 
iowell as could be expected, broke off this intercourse. Mr. 
Bertram hastened to the lady’s apartment, Meg Merrilies de- 
scended to the kitchen to secure her share of the groaning 
malt , 1 and the “ken-no,” and Mannering, after looking at his 
watch, and noting, with great exactness, the hour and minute 
is of the birth, requested, with becoming gravity, that the 
Dominie would conduct him to some place where he might 
have a view of the heavenly bodies. 

The schoolmaster, without further answer, rose and threw 

1 The groaning malt mentioned in the text was the ale 
brewed for the purpose of being drunk after the lady or good- 
wife’s safe delivery. The ken-no has a more ancient source, 
and perhaps the custom may be derived from the secret rites 
of the Bona Dea. A large and rich cheese was made by the 
women of the family, with great affectation of secrecy, for 
the refreshment of the gossips who were to attend at the 
canny minute. This was the ken-no, so called because its 
existence was secret (that is, presumed to be so) from all the 
males of the family, but especially from the husband and 
master. He was, accordingly, expected to conduct himself 
as if he knew of no such preparation, to act as if desirous to 
press the female guests to refreshments, and to seem surprised 
at their obstinate refusal. But the instant his back was 
turned the ken-no was produced ; and after all had eaten their 
fill, with a proper accompaniment of the groaning malt, the 
remainder was divided among the gossips, each carrying a 
large portion home with the same affectation of great secrecy. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


21 


open a door half sashed with glass, which led to an old- 
fashioned terrace-walk, behind the modern house, communi- 
cating with the platform on which the ruins of the ancient 
castle werejsiluated. The wind had arisen, and swept before 
it the clouds which had formerly obscured the sky. The 5 
moon was high, and at the full, and all the lesser satellites of 
heaven shone forth in cloudless effulgence. The scene which 
their light presented to Mannering was in the highest degree 
unexpected and striking. 

It was one hour after midnight, and the prospect around IO 
was lovely. The gray old towers of the ruin, partly entire, 
partly broken, here bearing the rusty weather-stains of ages, 
and there partially mantled with ivy, stretched along the verge 
of the dark rock which rose on Mannering’s right hand. In 
his front was the quiet bay, whose little waves, crisping and x 5 
sparkling to the moonbeams, rolled successively along its 
surface, and dashed with a soft and murmuring ripple against 
the silvery beach. To the left the woods advanced far into the 
ocean, waving in the moonlight along ground of an undulating 
and varied form, and presenting those varieties of light and 2 o 
shade, and that interesting combination of glade and thicket, 
upon which the eye delights to rest, charmed with what it 
sees, yet curious to pierce still deeper into the intricacies of 
the woodland scenery. Above rolled the planets, each, by its 
own liquid orbit of light, distinguished from the inferior or 25 
more distant stars. So strangely can imagination deceive even 
those by whose volition it has been excited, that Mannering, 
while gazing upon these brilliant bodies, was half inclined to 
believe in the influence ascribed to them by superstition over 
human events. 30 

Such musings soon gave way to others. “Alas!” he 
muttered, “my good old tutor, who used to enter so deep 
into the controversy between Heydon and Chambers 0 on the 


22 


GUY MANNERING 


subject of astrology, he would have looked upon the scene 
with other eyes, and would have seriously endeavored to 
discover from the respective positions of these luminaries their 
probable effects on the destiny of the new-born infant, as if 
5 the courses or emanations of the stars superseded, or, at least, 
were co-ordinate with, Divine Providence. Well, rest be with 
him ! he instilled into me enough of knowledge for erecting a 
scheme of nativity, and therefore will I presently go about 
it.” So saying, and having noted the position of the prin- 
io cipal planetary bodies, Guy Mannering returned to the house. 
The Laird met him in the parlor, and acquainting him, with 
great glee, that the boy was a fine healthy little fellow, seemed 
rather disposed to press further conviviality. He admitted, 
however, Mannering’ s plea of weariness, and, conducting him 
is to his sleeping apartment, left him to repose for the evening. 


CHAPTER IV 


— Come and see ! trust thine own eyes, 

A fearful sign stands in the house of life, 

An enemy ; a fiend lurks close behind 
The radiance of thy planet — O be warned. 

Coleridge, from Schiller.® 

Mannering arose as early in the morning as the shortness 
of the day permitted, and proceeded to calculate the nativity 
of the young heir of Ellangowan. He undertook the task 
secundum artem,° as well to keep up appearances, as from a 
sort of curiosity to know whether he yet remembered, and 5 
could practise, the imaginary science. He accordingly erected 
his scheme, or figure of heaven, divided into its twelve houses, 
placed the planets therein according to the Ephemeris, and 
rectified their position to the hour and moment of the nativity. 
Without troubling our readers with the general prognostica- 10 
tions° which judicial astrology would have inferred from these 
circumstances, in this diagram there was one significator, which 
pressed remarkably upon our astrologer’s attention. Mars 
having dignity in the cusp° of the twelfth house, threatened 
captivity, or sudden and violent death, to the native; and 15 
Mannering having recom-se to those further rules by which 
diviners pretend to ascertain the vehemency of this evil 
direction, observed from the result, that three periods would 
be particularly hazardous — his fifth — his tenth — his twenty- 
first year. 


23 


24 


GUY M ANNE RING 


It was somewhat remarkable, that Mannering had once 
before tried a similar piece of foolery, at the instance of 
Sophia Wellwood, the young lady to whom he was attached, 
and that a similar conjunction of planetary influence threat- 
S ened her with death, or imprisonment, in her thirty-ninth 
year. She was at this time eighteen; so that, according to 
the result of the scheme in both cases, the same year threat- 
ened her with the same misfortune that was presaged to the 
native or infant, whom that night had introduced into the 
io world. Struck with this coincidence, Mannering repeated his 
calculations; and the result approximated the events pre- 
dicted, until, at length, the same month, and day of the 
month, seemed assigned as the period of peril to both. 

It will be readily believed, that, in mentioning this circum- 
15 stance, we lay no weight whatever upon the pretended infor- 
mation thus conveyed. But it often happens, such is our 
natural love for the marvellous, that we willingly contribute 
our own efforts to beguile our better judgments. Whether 
the coincidence which I have mentioned was really one of 
20 those singular chances, which sometimes happen against 
all ordinary calculations ; or whether Mannering, bewildered 
amid the arithmetical labyrinth and technical jargon of as- 
trology, had insensibly twice followed the same clew to guide 
him out of the maze ; or whether his imagination, seduced by 
25 some point of apparent resemblance, lent its aid to make the 
similitude between the two operations more exactly accurate 
than it might otherwise have been, it is impossible to guess ; 
but the impression upon his mind, that the results exactly 
corresponded, was vividly and indelibly strong. 

30 He hesitated a good deal what he should say to the Laird 
of Ellangowan, concerning the horoscope 0 of his first-born; 
and, at length, resolved plainly to tell him the judgment 
which he had formed, at the same time acquainting him with 


GUY M ANNE RING 25 

the futility of the rules of art on which he had proceeded. 
With this resolution he walked out upon the terrace. 

If the view of the scene around Ellangowan had been pleas- 
ing by moonlight, it lost none of its beauty by the light of the 
morning sun. The land, even in the month of November, 5 
smiled under its influence. A steep, but regular, ascent led 
from the terrace to the neighboring eminence, and conducted 
Mannering to the front of the old castle. It consisted of two 
massive round towers, projecting, deeply and darkly, at the 
extreme angles of a curtain, or flat wall, which united them, 10 
and thus protecting the main entrance, that opened through 
a lofty arch in the centre of the curtain into the inner court 
of the castle. The arms of the family, carved in freestone, 
frowned over the gateway, and the portal showed the spaces 
arranged by the architect for lowering the portcullis, and 15 
raising the drawbridge. A rude farm-gate, made of young 
fir-trees nailed together, now formed the only safeguard of 
this once formidable entrance. The esplanade 0 in front of 
the castle commanded a noble prospect. 

Mannering stood a minute with his arms folded, and then 20 
turned to the ruined castle. On entering the gateway, he 
found that the rude magnificence of the inner court amply 
corresponded with the grandeur of the exterior. On the one 
side ran a range of windows lofty and large, divided by carved 
mullions of stone, which had once lighted the great hall of 25 
the castle; on the other, were various buildings of different 
heights and dates, yet so united as to present to the eye a 
certain general effect of uniformity of front. The doors and 
windows were ornamented with projections exhibiting rude 
specimens of sculpture and tracery, partly entire and partly 30 
broken down, partly covered by ivy and trailing plants, which 
grew luxuriantly among the turns. That end of the court 
which faced the entrance had also been formerly closed by a 


26 


GUY MANNERING 


range of buildings ; but owing, it was said, to its having been 
battered by the ships of the Parliament 0 under Deane, during 
the long civil war, this part of the castle was much more 
ruinous than the rest, and exhibited a great chasm, through 
5 which Mannering could observe the sea, and the little vessel 
(an armed lugger) which retained her station in the centre of 
the bay. 1 While Mannering was gazing round the ruins, he 
heard from the interior of an apartment on the left hand the 
voice of the gypsy he had seen on the preceding evening. He 
io soon found an aperture, through which he could observe her 
without being himself visible; and could not help feeling, 
that her figure, her employment, and her situation, conveyed 
the exact impression of an ancient sibyl. 0 

She sat upon a broken corner-stone in the angle of a paved 
15 apartment, part of which she had swept clean to afford a 
smooth space for the evolutions of her spindle. A strong sun- 
beam, through a lofty and narrow window, fell upon her wild 
dress and features, and afforded her light for her occupation ; 
the rest of the apartment was very gloomy. Equipped in a 
20 habit which mingled the national dress of the Scottish com- 
mon people with something of an Eastern costume, she spun 
a thread, drawn from wool of three different colors, black, 
white, and gray, by assistance of those ancient implements of 
housewifery, now almost banished from the land, the distaff 
25 and spindle. As she spun, she sung what seemed to be a 
charm. Mannering, after in vain attempting to make him- 
self master of the exact words of her song, afterwards at- 
tempted the following paraphrase of what, from a few in- 
telligible phrases, he concluded to be its purport : 

1 The outline of the above description, as far as the sup- 
posed ruins are concerned, will be found somewhat to resemble 
the noble remains of Carlaverock castle, six or seven miles 
from Dumfries, and near to Lochar-moss. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


27 


Twist ye, twine ye ! even so 
Mingle shades of joy and woe, 

Hope, and fear, and peace, and strife, 

In the thread of human life. 

While the mystic twist is spinning, 5 

And the infant’s life beginning, 

Dimly seen through twilight bending, 

Lo, what varied shapes attending ! 

Passions wild, and Follies vain, 

Pleasures soon exchanged for pain ; 10 

Doubt, and Jealousy, and Fear, 

In the magic dance appear. 

* Now they wax, and now they dwindle, 

Whirling with the whirling spindle. 

Twist ye, twine ye ! even so 15 

Mingle human bliss and wo. 

Ere our translator, or rather our free imitator, had arranged 
these stanzas in his head, and while he was yet hammering out 
a rhyme for dwindle, the task of the sibyl was accomplished, 
or her wool was expended. She took the spindle, now charged 20 
with her labors, and, undoing the thread gradually, measured 
it, by casting it over her elbow, and bringing each loop round 
between her forefinger and thumb. When she had measured 
it out, she muttered to herself — “A hank, but not a haill ane 
— the full years o’ three score and ten, but thrice broken, and 25 
thrice to oop ( i.e . to unite) ; he’ll be a lucky lad an he win 
through wi’t.” 

Our hero was about to speak to the prophetess, when a 
voice, hoarse as the waves with which it mingled, halloo’d 
twice, and with increasing impatience — “Meg, Meg Mer-30 
rilies ! — Gypsy — hag — tousand deyvils ! ” 

“I am coming, I am coming, Captain,” answered Meg; and 
in a moment or two the impatient commander whom she 


28 


GUY MANNERING 


addressed made his appearance from the broken part of the 
ruins. 

He was apparently a seafaring man, rather under the middle 
size, and with a countenance bronzed by a thousand conflicts 
5 with the north-east wind. His frame was prodigiously mus- 
cular, strong, and thick-set; so that it seemed as if a man of 
much greater height would have been an inadequate match 
in any close personal conflict* He was hard-favored, and, 
which was worse, his face bore nothing of the insouciance, the 
io careless frolicsome jollity and vacant curiosity cf a sailor on 
shore. On the contrary, a surly and even savage scowl 
appeared to darken features which would have been harsh 
and unpleasant under any expression or modification. 
“Where are you, Mother Deyvilson?” he said, with some- 
15 what of a foreign accent, though speaking perfectly good 
English. “Donner and blitzen ! we have been staying this 
half-hour. — Come, bless the good ship and the voyage, and 
be cursed to ye for a hag of Satan ! ” 

At this moment he noticed Mannering, who, from the 
20 position which he had taken to watch Meg Merrilies’s incanta- 
tions, had the appearance of some one who was concealing 
himself, being half hidden by the buttress behind which he 
stood. The Captain, for such he styled himself, made a 
sudden and startled pause, and thrust his right hand into his 
25 bosom, between his jacket and waistcoat, as if to draw some 
weapon. “What cheer, brother? — you seem on the out- 
look— eh?” 

Ere Mannering, somewhat struck by the man’s gesture 
and insolent tone of voice, had made any answer, the gypsy 
30 emerged from her vault and joined the stranger. He ques- 
tioned her in an undertone, looking at Mannering — “A 
shark alongside ; eh ? ” 

She answered in the same tone of under-dialogue, using the 


GUY M ANNE RING 


29 


cant language of her tribe — “Cut ben whids, and stow them 

— a gentry cove of the ken.” 1 

The fellow’s cloudy visage cleared up. “The top of the 
morning to you, sir; I find you are a visitor of my friend 
Mr. Bertram — I beg pardon, but I took you for another sort 5 
of a person.” 

Mannering replied, “And you, sir, I presume, are the 
master of that vessel in the bay ? ” 

“Ay, ay, sir; I am Captain Dirk Hatteraick, of the Yung- 
frauw Hagenslaapen, well known on this coast; I am not 10 
ashamed of my name, nor of my vessel, — no, nor of my 
cargo neither, for that matter.” 

“I dare say you have no reason, sir.” 

“Tousand donner — no; I’m all in the way of fair trade 0 

— Just loaded yonder at Douglas, in the Isle of Man — neat 15 
cogniac 0 — • real hyson and souchong 0 — Mechlin lace,° if 
you want any — Right cogniac — We bumped ashore a 
hundred kegs last night.” 

“Really, sir, I am only a traveller, and have no sort of 
occasion for anything of the kind at the present.” 20 

“Why, then, good morning to you, for business must be 
minded — unless ye’ll go aboard and take schnaps 2 — you 
shall have a pouch-full of tea ashore. — Dirk Hatteraick 
knows how to be civil.” 

There was a mixture of impudence, hardihood, and sus- 25 
picious fear about this man, which was inexpressibly dis- 
gusting. His manners were those of a ruffian, conscious of 
the suspicion attending his character, yet aiming to bear it 
down by the affectation of a careless and hardy familiarity. 
Mannering briefly rejected his proffered civilities ; and after 30 

1 Meaning : Stop your uncivil language — that is a gentle- 
man from the house below. 

2 A dram of liquor. 


30 


GUY MANNERING 


a surly good morning, Hatteraick retired with the gypsy to 
that part of the ruins from which he had first made his ap- 
pearance. A very narrow staircase here went down to the 
beach, intended probably for the convenience of the garrison 
5 during a siege. By this stair, the couple, equally amiable 
in appearance, and respectable by profession, descended to 
the seaside. The soi-disant° captain embarked in a small 
boat with two men who appeared to wait for him, and the 
gypsy remained on the shore, reciting or singing, and ges- 
io ticulating with great vehemence. 


CHAPTER V 


You have fed upon my seignories,® 

Dispark’d my parks, and fell’d my forest woods, 

From mine own windows torn my household coat, 

Razed out my impress, leaving me no sign, 

Save men’s opinions and my living blood, 

To show the world I am a gentleman. 

Richard II. 

When the boat which carried the worthy captain on board 
his vessel had accomplished that task, the sails began to 
ascend, and the ship was got under way. She fired three 
guns as a salute to the house of Ellangowan, and then shot 
away rapidly before the wind, which blew off shore, under 5 
all the sail she could crowd. 

“Ay, ay,” said the Laird, who had sought Mannering for 
some time, an/d now joined him, “there they go — there go 
the free-traders — there go Captain Dirk Hatteraick, and the 
Yungfrauw Hagenslaapen, half Manks, half Dutchman, half 10 
devil ! run out the boltsprit, 0 up main-sail, top and top- 
gallant sails, royals, and skyscrapers, and away — follow who 
can! That fellow, Mr. Mannering, is the terror of all the 
excise and custom-house cruisers; they can make nothing 
of him ; he drubs them, or he distances them ; — and, speak- 15 
ing of excise, I come to bring you to breakfast ; and you shall 
have some tea, that ” 

Mannering, by this time, was aware that one thought 
linked strangely on to another in the concatenation 0 of worthy 
Mr. Bertram’s ideas, 20 

Like orient pearls at random strung; 

31 


32 


GUY M ANNE RING 


and, therefore, before the current of his associations had 
drifted farther from the point he had left, he brought him 
back by some inquiry about Dirk Hatteraick. 

“O he’s a — a — gude sort of blackguard fellow eneugh — 
5 naebody cares to trouble him — smuggler, when his guns are 
in ballast — privateer, or pirate faith, when he gets them 
mounted. He has done more mischief to the revenue folk 
than ony rogue that ever came out of Ramsay.” 

“But, my good sir, such being his character, I wonder he 
io has any protection and encouragement on this coast.” 

“Why, Mr. Mannering, people must have brandy and tea, 
and there’s none in the country but what comes this way — - 
and then there’s short accounts, and maybe a keg or two, or 
a dozen pounds left at your stable door, instead of a d — d 
is lang account at Christmas from Duncan Robb, the grocer at 
Kippletringan, who has aye a sum to make up, and either 
wants ready money, or a short-dated bill. Now, Hatteraick 
will take wood, or he’ll take bark, or he’ll take barley, or he’ll 
take just what’s convenient at the time. I’ll tell you a gude 
20 story about that. There was ance a laird — that’s Macfie of 
Gudgeonford, — he had a great number of kain hens — that’s 
hens that the tenant pays to the landlord — like a sort of rent 
in kind — they aye feed mine very ill ; Luckie Finniston sent 
up three that were a shame to be seen only last week, and yet 
2 5 she has twelve bows° sowing of victual ; indeed her goodman, 
Duncan Finniston — that’s him that’s gone — (we must all 
die, Mr. Mannering ; that’s ower true) — and speaking of 
that, let us live in the meanwhile, for here’s breakfast on the 
table, and the Dominie ready to say the grace.” 

30 Curious to investigate the manners of the country* Man- 
nering inquired what Captain Hatteraick so earnestly wanted 
with the gypsy woman. 

“Oh, to bless his ship, I suppose. You must know, Mr. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


33 


Mannering, that these free-traders, whom the law calls 
smugglers, having no religion, make it all up in superstition ; 
and they have as many spells, and charms and nonsense ” 

“Vanity and waur ! ” said the Dominie : “it is a trafficking 
with the Evil One. Spells, periapts, 0 and charms are of his 5 
device — choice arrows out of Apollyon’s 0 quiver.” 

“Hold your peace, Dominie — ye’re speaking forever 
(by the way they were the first words the poor man had 
uttered that morning, excepting that he said grace, and 
returned thanks) — Mr. Mannering cannot get in a word 10 
for ye ! — and so, Mr. Mannering, talking of astronomy, and 
spells, and these matters, have ye been so kind as to consider 
what we were speaking about last night ? ” 

“I begin to think, Mr. Bertram, with your worthy friend 
here, that I have been rather jesting with edge-tools; and 15 
although neither you nor I, nor any sensible man, can put 
faith in the predictions of astrology, yet as it has sometimes 
happened that inquiries into futurity, undertaken in jest, 
have in their results produced serious and unpleasant effects 
both upon actions and characters, I really wish you would'20 
dispense with my replying to your question.” 

It was easy fo see that this evasive answer only rendered 
the Laird’s curiosity more uncontrollable. Mannering, how- 
ever, was determined in his own mind, not to expose the 
infant to the inconveniences which might have arisen from 25 
his being supposed the object of evil prediction. He there- 
fore delivered the paper into Mr. Bertram’s hand, and re- 
quested him to keep it fox five years with the seal unbroken, 
until the month of November was expired. After that 
date had intervened, he left him at liberty to examine the 30 
writing, trusting that the first fatal period being then safely 
overpassed, no credit would be paid to its further contents. 
This Mr. Bertram was content to promise, and Mannering, 


D 


34 


GUY M ANNE RING 


to insure his fidelity, hinted at misfortunes which would 
certainly take place if his injunctions were neglected. The 
rest of the day, which Mannering, by Mr. Bertram’s in- 
vitation, spent at Ellangowan, passed over without any- 
5 thing remarkable ; and on the morning of that which followed, 
the traveller mounted his palfrey, bade a courteous adieu 
to his hospitable landlord, and to his clerical attendant, 
repeated his good wishes for the prosperity of the family, 
and then, turning his horse’s head towards England, dis- 
io appeared from the sight of the inmates of Ellangowan. 
He must also disappear from that of our readers,' for it is to an- 
other and later period of his life that the present narrative 
relates. 


CHAPTER VI 


Next, the Justice , 0 

In fair round belly, with good capon lined, 

With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 

Full of wise saws, and modern instances : 

And so he plays his part. 

As You Like It. 

When Mrs. Bertram of Ellangowan was able to hear the 
news of what had passed during her confinement, her apart- 
ment rung with all manner of gossiping respecting the hand- 
some young student from Oxford, who had told such a 
fortune by the stars to the young Laird, “blessings on his S 
dainty face.” The form, accent, and manners of the stranger, 

■ were expatiated upon. His horse, bridle, saddle, and stirrups, 
did not remain unnoticed. All this made a great impression 
upon the mind of Mrs. Bertram, for the good lady had no 
small store of superstition. io 

Her first employment, when she became capable of a little 
work, was to make a small velvet bag for the scheme of 
nativity which she had obtained from her husband. Her 
fingers itched to break the seal, but credulity proved stronger 
than curiosity; and she had the firmness to enclose it, in all 15 
its integrity, within two slips of parchment, which she sewed 
round it, to prevent its being chafed. The whole was then 
put into the velvet bag aforesaid, and hung as a charm round 
the neck of the infant, where his mother resolved it should 
remain until the period for the legitimate satisfaction of her 20 
curiosity should arrive. 


35 


36 


GUY MANNERING 


The father also resolved to do his part by the child, in 
securing him a good education; and with the view that it 
should commence with the first dawnings of reason; Dominie 
Sampson was easily induced to renounce his public profession 
5 of parish schoolmaster, make his constant residence at the 
Place, and, in consideration of a sum not quite equal to the 
wages of a footman even at that time, to undertake to com- 
municate to the future Laird of Ellangowan all the erudition 
which he had, and all the graces and accomplishments which 
10 — he had not indeed, but which he had never discovered that 
he wanted. In this arrangement, the Laird found also his 
private advantage ; securing the constant benefit of a patient 
auditor, to whom he told his stories when they were alone, 
and at whose expense he could break a sly jest when he had 
x 5 company. 

About four years after this time, a great commotion took 
place in the county where Ellangowan is situated. 

Those who watched the signs of the times had long been 
of opinion that a change of ministry was about to take place ; 
20 and, at length, after a due proportion of hopes, fears, and 
delays, rumors from good authority, and bad authority, and 
no authority at all; after some clubs had drunk Up with 
this statesman, and others Down with him ; after riding, and 
running, and posting and addressing, and counter-addressing, 
25 and proffers of lives and fortunes, the blow was at length 
struck, the administration of the day was dissolved, and 
parliament, as a natural consequence, was dissolved also. 

Sir Thomas Kittlecourt, like other members in the same 
situation, posted down to his county, and met but an in- 
30 different reception. He was a partisan of the old administra- 
tion; and the friends of the new had already set about an 
active canvass in behalf of John Featherhead, Esq., who kept 
the best hounds and hunters in the shire. Among others 


GUY M ANNE RING 


37 


who joined the standard of revolt was Gilbert Glossin, writer 

in , agent for the Laird of Ellangowan. This honest 

gentleman had either been refused some favor by the old 
member, or, what is as probable, he had got all that he had 
the most distant pretension to ask, and could only look to 5 
the other side for fresh advancement. Mr. Glossin had a 
vote upon Ellangowan’s property; and he was now deter- 
mined that his patron should have one also, there being no 
doubt which side Mr. Bertram would embrace in the contest. 
He easily persuaded Ellangowan, that it would be creditable i° 
to him to take the field at the head of as strong a party as 
possible; and immediately went to work, making votes, as 
every Scotch lawyer knows how, by splitting and subdividing 
the superiorities upon this ancient and once powerful barony. 
These were so extensive, that by dint of clipping and paring 15 
here, adding and eking there, and creating over-lords upon 
all the estate which Bertram held of the crown, they advanced, 
at the day of the contest, at the head of ten as good men of 
parchment 0 as ever took the oath of trust and possession. 
This strong reenforcement turned the dubious day of battle. 20 
The principal and his agent divided the honor; the reward 
fell to the latter exclusively. Mr. Gilbert Glossin was made 
clerk of the peace, and Godfrey Bertram had his name in- 
serted in a new commission of justices, issued immediately 
upon the sitting of the parliament. 25 

This had been the summit of Mr. Bertram’s ambition ; not 
that he liked either the trouble or the responsibility of the 
office, but he thought it was a dignity to which he was well 
entitled, and that it had been withheld from him by malice 
prepense. But there is an old and true Scotch proverb, 30 
“Fools should not have chapping sticks”; that is, weapons 
of offence. Mr. Bertram was no sooner possessed of the 
judicial authority which he had so much longed for, than 


38 


GUY MANNERING 


he began to exercise it with more severity than mercy, and 
totally belied all the opinions which had hitherto been formed 
of his inert good nature. We have read somewhere of a 
justice of peace, who, on being nominated in the commission, 
S wrote a letter to a bookseller for the statutes respecting his 
official duty, in the following orthography, — “Please send 
the ax relating to a gustus pease.” No doubt, when this 
learned gentleman had possessed himself of the axe, he 
hewed the laws with it to some purpose. Mr. Bertram was 
ionot quite so ignorant of English grammar as his worshipful 
predecessor : but Augustus Pease himself could not have 
used more indiscriminately the weapon unwarily put into his 
hand. 

In good earnest, he considered the commission with which 
is he had been intrusted as a personal mark of favor from his 
sovereign ; forgetting that he had formerly thought his being 
deprived of a privilege, or honor, common to those of his 
rank, was the result of mere party cabal. 0 He commanded 
his trusty aide-de-camp, Dominie Sampson, to read aloud the 
20 commission ; and at the first words, “The king has been 
pleased to appoint” — “Pleased!” he exclaimed, in a trans- 
port of gratitude; “Honest gentleman! I’m sure he cannot 
be better pleased than I am.” 

Accordingly, unwilling to confine his gratitude to mere 
25 feelings, or verbal expressions, he gave full current to the 
new-born zeal of office, and endeavored to express his 
sense of the honor conferred upon him, by an unmitigated 
activity in the discharge of his duty. New brooms, it is 
said, sweep clean; and I myself can bear witness, that, on 
30 the arrival of a new housemaid, the ancient, hereditary, and 
domestic spiders, who have spun their webs over the lower 
division of my book-shelves (consisting chiefly of law and 
divinity) 0 dining the peaceful reign of her predecessor, fly 


GUY M ANNE RING 


39 


at full speed before the probationary inroads of the new 
mercenary. Even so the Laird of Ellangowan ruthlessly 
commenced his magisterial reform, at the expense of various 
established and superannuated pickers and stealers, who 
had been his neighbors for half a century. He wrought 5 
his miracles like a second Duke Humphrey; and by the 
influence of the beadle’s rod, caused the lame to walk, the 
blind to see, and the palsied to labor. He detected 
poachers, 0 black-fishers, orchard-breakers, and pigeon- 
shooters ; had the applause of the bench for his reward, and 10 
the public credit of an active magistrate. 

All this good had its rateable proportion of evil. Even an 
admitted nuisance, of ancient standing, should not be abated 
without some caution. The zeal of our worthy friend now 
involved in great distress sundry personages whose idle and 15 
mendicant habits his own Idchesse 0 had contributed to foster, 
until these habits had become irreclaimable, or whose real 
incapacity for exertion rendered them fit objects, in their 
own phrase, for the charity of all well-disposed Christians. 
The “long-remembered beggar,” who for twenty years had 20 
made his regular rounds within the neighborhood, received 
rather as an humble friend than as an object of charity, was 
sent to the neighboring workhouse. The decrepit dame, who 
travelled round the parish upon a hand-barrow, circulating 
from house to house like a bad shilling, which every one is 25 
in haste to pass to his neighbor; she, who used to call for 
her bearers tls loud, or louder, than a traveller demands post- 
horses, even she shared the same disastrous fate. The “daft 
Jock,” who, half knave, half idiot, had been the sport of each 
succeeding race of village children for a good part of a century, 30 
was remitted to the county bridewell, where, secluded from 
free air and sunshine, the only advantages he was capable of 
enjoying, he pined and died in the course of six months. The 


40 


GUY M ANNE RING 


old sailor, who had so long rejoiced the smoky rafters of every 
kitchen in the country, by singing Captain Ward, and Bold 
Admiral Benbow, was banished from the country for no better 
reason, than that he was supposed to speak with a strong Irish 
5 accent. Even the annual rounds of the pedler were abolished 
by the Justice, in his hasty zeal for the administration of rural 
police. 

All these circumstances brought the busy Laird of Ellan- 
gowan into discredit, which was the more general on account 
io of his former popularity. Even his lineage was brought up 
in judgment against him. They thought “ naething of what 
the like of Greenside, or Burnville, or Viewforth, might do, 
that were strangers in the country; but Ellangowan! that 
had been a name arnang them since the mirk Monanday, 
15 and lang before — him to be grinding the puir at that rate! 
— They ca’d his grandfather the Wicked Laird ; • but, though 
he was whiles fractious aneuch, when he got into roving 
company, and had ta’en the drap drink, he would have scorned 
to gang on at this gate.” 

20 Such was the gossip over the good twopenny in every 
alehouse within three or four miles of Ellangowan, that being 
about the diameter of the orbit in which our friend Godfrey 
Bertram, Esq., J.P., must be considered as the principal lumi- 
nary. Still greater scope was given to evil tongues by the 
2 5 removal of a colony of gypsies, with one of whom our reader 
is somewhat acquainted, and who had for a great many years 
enjoyed their chief settlement upon the estate of Ellangowan. 


CHAPTER VII 


Come, princes of the ragged regiment, 0 

You of the blood ! Prigg, my most upright lord, 0 

And these, what name or title e’er they bear, 

Jarkman , or Patrico, Cranke or Clapper-dudgeon , 

Frater or Abram-man° — I speak of all. — 

Beggar’s Bush. 

It is well known that the gypsies were, at an early period, 
acknowledged as a separate and independent race by one of 
the Scottish monarchs, and that they were less favorably 
distinguished by a subsequent law, which rendered the char- 
acter of gypsy equal, in the judicial balance, to that of com- 5 
mon and habitual thief, and prescribed his punishment 
accordingly. Notwithstanding the severity of this and other 
statutes, the fraternity prospered amid the distresses of the 
country, and received large accessions from among those 
whom famine, oppression, or the sword of war, had deprived ic 
of the ordinary means of subsistence. They lost, in a great 
measure, by this intermixture, the national character of 
Egyptians, and became a mingled race, having all the idle- 
ness and predatory habits of their Eastern ancestors, with 
a ferocity which they probably borrowed from the men 15 
of the north who joined their society. They travelled in 
different bands, and had rules among themselves, by which 
each tribe was confined to his own district. The slightest in- 
vasion of the precincts which had been assigned to another 
tribe produced desperate skirmishes, in which there was 2c 
often much bloodshed. 


41 


42 


GUY M ANNE RING 


A tribe of these itinerants, to whom Meg Merrilies apper- 
tained, had long been as stationary as their habits permitted, 
in a glen upon the estate of Ellangowan. They had there 
erected a few huts, which they denominated their “city of 
5 refuge,” and where, when not absent on excursions, they 
harbored unmolested, as the crows that roosted in the old 
ash-trees around them. They had been such long occupants, 
that they were considered in some degree as proprietors of the 
wretched shealings which they inhabited. “The knaves” 
iowere the Laird’s “exceeding good friends”; and he would 
have deemed himself very ill used, if his countenance could 
not now and then have borne them out against the law of 
the country and the local magistrate. But this friendly 
union was soon to be dissolved. 

is The community of Derncleugh, who cared for no rogues but 
their own, were wholly without alarm at the severity of the 
justice’s proceedings towards other itinerants. They had no 
doubt that he determined to suffer no mendicants or strollers 
in the country, but what resided on his own property, and 
20 practised their trade by his immediate permission, implied 
or expressed. Nor was Mr. Bertram in a hurry to exert his 
newly-acquired authority at the expense of these old settlers. 
But he was driven on by circumstances. 

At the quarter-sessions, our new justice was publicly up- 
25 braided by a gentleman of the opposite party in county 
politics, that, while he affected a great zeal for the public 
police, and seemed ambitious of the fame of an active magis- 
trate, he fostered a tribe of the greatest rogues in the country 
and permitted them to harbor within a mile of the house of 
30 Ellangowan. To this there was no reply, for the fact was too 
evident and well known. The Laird digested the taunt as he 
best could, and in his way home amused himself with specu- 
lations on the easiest method of ridding himself of these 


GUY MANNERING 


43 


vagrants, who brought a stain upon his fair fame as a magis- 
trate. Just as he had resolved to take the first opportunity of 
quarrelling with the Parias 0 of Derncleugh, a cause of provo- 
cation presented itself. 

Since our friend’s advancement to be a conservator of the s 
peace, he had caused the gate at the head of his avenue, which 
formerly, having only one hinge, remained at all times hospit- 
ably open — he had caused this gate, I say, to be newly hung 
and handsomely painted. He had also shut up with paling, 
curiously twisted with furze, certain holes in the fences adjoin- 10 
ing, through which the gypsy boys used to scramble into the 
plantations to gather birds’ nests, the seniors of the village to 
make a short cut from one point to another, and the lads and 
lasses for evening rendezvous — all without offence taken, or 
leave asked. But these halcyon days 0 were now to have an 15 
end, and a minatory inscription on one side of the gate inti- 
mated “prosecution according to law” (the painter had spelled 
it persecution — l’un vaut bien l’autre 0 ) to all who should be 
found trespassing on these enclosures. On the other side, for 
uniformity’s sake, was a precautionary annunciation of spring- 20 
guns and man-traps of such formidable powers, that, said the 
rubrick, with an emphatic nota bene° “if a man goes in, they 
will break a horse’s leg.” 

In defiance of these threats, six well-grown gypsy boys and 
girls were riding cock-horse upon the new gate, and plaiting 25 
may-flowers, which it was but too evident had been gathered 
within the forbidden precincts. With as much anger as he 
was capable of feeling, or perhaps of assuming, the Laird 
commanded them to descend ; — they paid no attention to his 
mandate : he then began to pull them down one after another ; 3c 
— they resisted, passively at least, each sturdy bronzed varlet 
making himself as heavy as he could, or climbing up as fast as 
he was dismounted. 


44 


GUY M ANNE RING 


The Laird then called in the assistance of his servant, a 
surly fellow, who had immediate recourse to his horse- whip. 
A few lashes sent the party a-scampering ; and thus com- 
menced the first breach of the peace between the house of 
5 Ellangowan and the gypsies of Derncleugh. 

The latter could not for some time imagine that the war 
was real ; until they found that their children were horse- 
whipped by the grieve when found trespassing ; that their asses 
were poinded 0 by the ground-officer when left in the planta- 
io tions, or even when turned to graze by the road-side, against 
the provision of the turnpike acts ; that the constable began 
to make curious inquiries into their mode of gaining a liveli- 
hood, and expressed his surprise that the men should sleep in 
the hovels all day, and be abroad the greater part of the night. 
15 When matters came to this point, the gypsies, without 
scruple, entered upon measures of retaliation. Ellangowan’s 
hen-roosts were plundered, his linen stolen from the lines or 
bleaching ground, his fishings poached, his dogs kidnapped, 
his growing trees cut or barked. Much petty mischief was 
20 done, and some evidently for the mischief’s sake. On the 
other hand, warrants went forth, without mercy, to pursue, 
search for, take, and apprehend ; and, notwithstanding their 
dexterity, one or two of the depredators were unable to avoid 
conviction. One, a stout young fellow, who sometimes had 
25 gone to sea a-fishing, was handed over to the Captain of the 

impress 0 service at D ; two children were soundly flogged, 

and one Egyptian matron sent to the house of correction. 

Still, however, the gypsies made no motion to leave the 
spot which they had so long inhabited, and Mr. Bertram felt 
30 an unwillingness to deprive them of their ancient “city of 
refuge” ; so that the petty warfare we have noticed continued 
for several months, without increase or abatement of hostili- 
ties on either side. 


CHAPTER VIII 


So the red Indian, by Ontario’s side, 

Nursed hardy on the brindled panther’s hide, 

As fades his swarthy race, with anguish sees 
The white man’s cottage rise beneath the trees ; 

He leaves the shelter of his native wood, 

He leaves the murmur of Ohio’s flood, 

And forward rushing in indignant grief, 

Where never foot has trod the fallen leaf, 

He bends his course where twilight reigns sublime, 

O’er forests silent since the birth of time. 

Scenes of Infancy. 0 

In tracing the rise and progress of the Scottish Maroon war, 
we must not omit to mention that years had rolled on, and 
that little Harry Bertram, one of the hardiest and most lively 
children that ever made a sword and grenadier’s cap of rushes, 
now approached his fifth revolving birthday. A hardihood 5 
of disposition, which early developed itself, made him already 
a little wanderer; he was well acquainted with every patch 
of lea ground and dingle around Ellangowan, and could tell 
in his broken language upon what baulks grew the bonniest 
flowers, and what copse had the ripest nuts. He repeatedly io 
terrified his attendants by clambering about the ruins of the 
old castle, and had more than once made a stolen excursion 
as far as the gypsy hamlet. 

On these occasions he was generally brought back by 
Meg Merrilies, who, though she could not be prevailed upon 15 
to enter the Place of Ellangowan after her nephew had been 

45 


46 


GUY MANNERING 


given up to the pressgang, did not apparently extend her 
resentment to the child. On the contrary, she often contrived 
to waylay him in his walks, sing him a gypsy song, give him 
a ride upon her jackass, and thrust into his pocket a piece 
5 of gingerbread or red-cheeked apple. This woman’s ancient 
attachment to the family, repelled and checked in every other 
direction, seemed to rejoice in having some object on which 
it could yet repose and expand itself. She prophesied a 
hundred times, “that young Mr. Harry would be the pride 
io o’ the family, and there hadna been sic a sprout frae the auld 
aik since the death of Arthur-Mac-Dingawaie, that was killed 
in the battle o’ the Bloody Bay ; as for the present stick, it 
was good for naething but firewood.” 

The affection of this woman became matter of suspicion, 
is not indeed to the Laird, who was never hasty in suspecting 
evil, but to his wife, who had indifferent health and poor 
spirits. She was now far advanced in a second pregnancy, 
and, as she could not walk abroad herself, and the woman 
who attended upon Harry was young and thoughtless, she 
20 prayed Dominie Sampson to undertake the task of watching 
the boy in his rambles, when he should not be otherwise 
accompanied. The Dominie loved his young charge, and 
was enraptured with his own success, in having already 
brought him so far in his learning as to spell words of three 
25 syllables. The idea of this early prodigy of erudition being 
carried off by the gypsies, like a second Adam Smith , 1 was not 
to be tolerated ; and accordingly, though the charge was 
contrary to all his habits of life, he readily undertook it, 
and might be seen stalking about with a mathematical prob- 
30 lem in his head, and his eye upon a child of five years old, 

1 The father of Economical Philosophy was, when a child, 
actually carried off by gypsies, and remained some hours in 
their possession. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


47 


whose rambles led him into a hundred awkward situations. 
Twice, was the Dominie chased by a cross-grained cow, once 
he fell into the brook crossing at the stepping-stones, and 
another time was bogged up to the middle in the slough of 
Lochend, in attempting to gather a water-lily for the young 5 
Laird. 

The Laird had, by this time, determined to make root-and- 
branch work with the Maroons of Derncleugh. The old 
servants shook their heads at his proposal, and even Dominie 
Sampson ventured upon an indirect remonstrance. As, how- 10 
ever, it was couched in the oracular phrase, “Ne moveas 
Camerinam,” 0 neither the allusion, nor the language in which 
it was expressed, were calculated for Mr. Bertram’s edification, 
and matters proceeded against the gypsies in form of law. 
Every door in the hamlet was chalked by the ground- officer, 15 
in token of a formal warning to remove at next term. Still, 
however, they showed no symptoms either of submission or 
of compliance. At length the term-day, the fatal Martinmas, 
arrived, and violent measures of ejection were resorted to. 

A strong posse of peace-officers, sufficient to render all resist- 20 
ance vain, charged the inhabitants to depart by noon ; and, 
as they did not obey, the officers, in terms of the warrant, 
proceeded to unroof the cottages, and pull down the wretched 
doors and windows, — a summary and effectual inode of ejec- 
tion still practised in some remote parts of Scotland, when a 25 
tenant proves refractory. The gypsies, for a time, beheld the 
work of destruction in sullen silence and inactivity ; then set 
about saddling and loading their asses, and making prepara- 
tions for their departure. These were soon accomplished, 
where all had the habits of wandering Tartars; and they 30 
set forth on their journey to seek new settlements, where 
their patrons should neither be of the quorum, nor custos 
rotulorum. 


48 


GUY M ANNE RING 


Certain qualms of feeling had deterred Ellangowan from 
attending in person to see his tenants expelled. He left the 
executive part of the business to the officers of the law, under 
the immediate direction of Frank Kennedy, a supervisor, or 
5 riding-officer, belonging to the excise, who had of late become 
intimate at the Place, and of whom we shall have more to say 
in the next chapter. Mr. Bertram himself chose that day to 
make a visit to a friend at some distance. But it so hap- 
pened, notwithstanding his precautions, that he could not 
io avoid meeting his late tenants during their retreat from his 
property. 

It was in a hollow way, near the top of a steep ascent, upon 
the verge of the Ellangowan estate, that Mr. Bertram met the 
gypsy procession. Four or five men formed the advanced 
is guard, wrapped in long loose great-coats that hid their tall 
slender figures, as the large slouched hats, drawn over their 
brows, concealed their wild features, dark eyes, and swarthy 
faces. Two of them carried long fowling-pieces, one wore a 
broadsword without a sheath, and all had the Highland dirk, 
20 though they did not wear that weapon openly or osten- 
tatiously. Behind them followed the train of laden asses, 
and small carts or tumblers, as they were called in that country, 
on which were laid the decrepit and the helpless, the aged and 
infant part of the exiled community. The women in their 
25 red cloaks and straw hats, the elder children with bare heads 
and bare feet, and almost naked bodies, had the immediate 
care of the little caravan. The road was narrow, running 
between two broken banks of sand, and Mr. Bertram’s 
servant rode forward, smacking his whip with an air of au- 
30 thority, and motioning to the drivers to allow free passage 
to their betters. His signal was unattended to. He then 
called to the men who lounged idly on before, “Stand to 
your beasts’ heads, and make room for the Laird to pass.” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


49 


“He shall have his share of the road,” answered a male 
gypsy from under his slouched and large-brimmed hat, and 
without raising his face, “and he shall have nae mair; the 
highway is as free to our cuddies as to his gelding.” 

The tone of the man being sulky, and even menacing, Mr. 5 
Bertram thought it best to put his dignity in his pocket, and 
pass by the procession quietly, on such space as they chose 
to leave for his accommodation, which was narrow enough. 

To cover with an appearance of indifference his feeling of the 
want of respect with which he was treated, he addressed one 10 
of the men, as he passed him without any show of greeting, 
salute, or recognition, — “Giles Baillie,” he said, “have you 
heard that your son Gabriel is well?” (The question re- 
spected the young man who had been pressed.) 

“If I had heard otherwise,” said the old man, looking up 15 
with a stern and menacing countenance, “you should have 
heard of it too.” And he plodded on his way, tarrying no 
further question. 1 When the Laird had pressed on with diffi- 
culty among a crowd of familiar faces, which had on all former 
occasions marked his approach with the reverence due to that 20 
of a superior being, but in which he now only read hatred and 
contempt, and had got clear of the throng, he could not help 
turning his horse, and looking back to mark the progress of 
their march. The group would have been an excellent subject 
for the pencil of Calotte. 0 The van had already reached a 25 
small and stunted thicket, which was at the bottom of the 
hill, and which gradually hid the line of march until the last 
stragglers disappeared. 

His sensations were bitter enough. The race, it is true, 
which he had thus summarily dismissed from their ancient 30 
place of refuge, was idle and vicious ; but had he endeavored 
to render them otherwise? They were not more irregular 
1 This anecdote is a literal fact. 

E 


50 


GUY MANN BRING 


characters now, than they had been while they were admitted 
to consider themselves as a sort of subordinate dependants of 
his family ; and ought the mere circumstance of his becoming 
a magistrate to have made at once such a change in his con- 
5 duct towards them ? As he was about to turn his horse’s 
head to pursue his journey, Meg Merrilies, who lagged behind 
the troop, unexpectedly presented herself. 

She was standing upon one of those high precipitous banks, 
which, as we before noticed, overhung the road ; so that she 
io was placed considerably higher than Ellangowan, even though 
he was on horseback ; and her tall figure, relieved against the 
clear blue sky, seemed almost of supernatural stature. We 
have noticed, that there was in her general attire, or rather in 
her mode of adjusting it, somewhat of a foreign costume, art- 
15 fully adopted perhaps for the purpose of adding to the effect 
of her spells and predictions, or perhaps from some traditional 
notions respecting the dress of her ancestors. On this occa- 
sion, she had a large piece of red cotton cloth rolled about 
her head in the form of a turban, from beneath which her 
20 dark eyes flashed with uncommon lustre. Her long and 
tangled black hair fell in elf-locks from the folds of this 
singular head-gear. Her attitude was that of a sibyl in 
frenzy, and she stretched out, in her right hand, a sapling 
bough which seemed just pulled. 

25 “Ride your ways,” said the gypsy, “ride your ways, Laird 
of Ellangowan — ride your ways, Godfrey Bertram ! — This 
day have ye quenched seven smoking hearths — see if the 
fire in your ain parlor burn the blyther for that. Ye have 
riven the thack off seven cottar houses — look if your ain 
30 roof-tree stand the faster. — Ye may stable your stirks in 
the shealings at Derncleugh — see that the hare does not 
couch on the hearth stone at Ellangowan. — Ride your 
ways, Godfrey Bertram — what do ye glower after our folk 


GUY M ANNE RING 


51 


for ? — There’s thirty hearts there, that wad hae wanted 
bread ere ye had wanted sunkets, 1 and spent their lifeblood 
ere ye had scratched your finger. Yes — there’s thirty 
yonder, from the auld wife of a hundred to the babe that 
was born last week, that ye have turned out o’ their bits 5 
o’ bields, to sleep with the tod and the blackcock in the 
muirs ! — Ride your ways, Ellangowan. — Our bairns are 
hinging at our weary backs — look that your braw cradle 
at hame be the fairer spread up — not that I am wishing 
ill to little Harry, or to the babe that’s yet to be born — God 10 
forbid — and make them kind to the poor, and better folk 
than their father ! — And now, ride e’en your ways ; for these 
are the last words ye’ll ever hear Meg Merrilies speak, and 
this is the last reise that I’ll ever cut in the bonny woods of 
Ellangowan.” 15 

So saying, she broke the sapling she held in her hand, and 
flung it into the road. Margaret of Anjou, 0 bestowing on her 
triumphant foes her keen-edged malediction, could not have 
turned from them with a gesture more proudly contemptuous. 
The Laird was clearing his voice to speak, and thrusting his 20 
hand in his pocket to find a half-crown; the gypsy waited 
neither for his reply nor his donation, but strode down the 
hill to overtake the caravan. 


1 Delicacies. 


CHAPTER IX 


Paint Scotland greeting ower her thrissle, 0 
Her mutchkin stoup as toom’s a whistle, 

And d — n’d excisemen in a bustle, 

Seizing a stell ; 

Triumphant crushing like a mussell, 

- Or lampit shell. 

Burns. 

During the period of Mr. Bertram’s active magistracy, he 
did not forget the affairs of the revenue. Smuggling, for 
which the Isle of Man then afforded peculiar facilities, was 
general, or rather universal, all along the southwestern coast 
5 of Scotland. Almost all the common people were engaged in 
these practices ; the gentry connived at them, and the officers 
of the revenue were frequently discountenanced in the exercise 
of their duty, by those who should have protected them. 

There was, at this period, employed as a riding officer, or 
io supervisor, in that part of the country, a certain Francis 
Kennedy, already named in our narrative ; a stout, resolute, 
and active man, who had made seizures to a great amount, 
and was proportionally hated by those who had an interest in 
the fair trade, as they called the pursuit of these contraband 
15 adventurers. This person was natural son to a gentleman of 
good family, owing to which circumstance, and to his being 
of a jolly convivial disposition, and singing a good song, he 
was admitted to the occasional society of the gentlemen of the 
country, and was a member of several of their clubs for prac- 
20 tising athletic games, at which he was particularly expert. 

52 


GUY MANNERING 


53 


At Ellangowan, Kennedy was a frequent and always an 
acceptable guest. His vivacity relieved Mr. Bertram of the 
trouble of thought, and the labor which it cost him to sup- 
port a detailed communication of idea ; while the daring and 
dangerous exploits which he had undertaken in the discharge 5 
of his office, formed excellent conversation. To all these 
revenue adventures did the Laird of Ellangowan seriously 
incline, and the amusement which he derived from Kennedy’s 
society formed an excellent reason for countenancing and 
assisting the narrator in the execution of his invidious 10 
and hazardous duty. 

After this league had taken place between judgment and 
execution, it chanced that Captain Dirk Hatteraick had 
landed a cargo of spirits, and other contraband goods, upon 
the beach not far from Ellangowan, and, confiding in the in- 15 
difference with which the Laird had formerly regarded similar 
infractions of the law, he was neither very anxious to conceal 
nor to expedite the transaction. The consequence was, that 
Mr. Frank Kennedy, armed with a warrant from Ellangowan, 
and supported by some of the Laird’s people who knew the 20 
country, and by a party of military, poured down upon the 
kegs, bales, and bags, and after a desperate affray, in which 
severe wounds were given and received, succeeded in clapping 
the broad arrow upon the articles, and bearing them off in 
triumph to the next custom-house. Dirk Hatteraick vowed, 25 
in Dutch, German, and English, a deep and full revenge, both 
against the gauger and his abettors; and all who knew him 
thought it likely he would keep his word. 

A few days after the departure of the gypsy tribe, Mr. 
Bertram asked his lady one morning at breakfast, whether 30 
this was not little Harry’s birthday? 

“Five years auld exactly, this blessed day,” answered the 
lady; “so we may look into the English gentleman’s paper.” 


54 


GUY MANNERING 


Mr. Bertram liked to show his authority in trifles. “No, 
my dear, not till to-morrow. The last time I was at quarter- 
sessions, the sheriff told us, that dies — that dies inceptus — in 
short, you don’t understand Latin, but it means that a term- 
5 day is not begun till it’s ended.” 

“That sounds like nonsense, my dear.” 

“May be so, my dear; but it may be very good law for all 
that. I am sure, speaking of term-days, I wish, as Frank 
Kennedy says, that Whitsunday 0 would kill Martinmas and be 
io hanged for the murder — for there I have got a letter about 
that interest of Jenny Cairns’s, and deil a tenant’s been at 
the Place yet wi’ a boddle of rent, — nor will not till Candle- 
mas — but, speaking of Frank Kennedy, I dare say he’ll be 
here the day, for he was away round to Wigton to warn a 
is king’s ship that’s lying in the bay about Dirk Hatteraick’s 
lugger being on the coast again, and he’ll be back this day; 
so we’ll have a bottle of claret, and drink little Harry’s 
health.” 

“I wish,” replied the lady, “Frank Kennedy would let 
20 Dirk Hatteraick alane. What needs he make himself mair 
busy than other folks ? Cannot he sing his sang, and take his 
drink, and draw his salary, like Collector Snail, honest man, 
that never fashes onybody? And I winder at you, Laird, 
for meddling and making — Did we ever want to send for tea 
25 or brandy frae the Borough-town, when Dirk Hatteraick used 
to come quietly into the bay?” 

“I tell you, my dear, you don’t understand these things — 
and there’s Frank Kennedy coming galloping up the 
avenue.” 

30 “Aweel! aweel! Ellangowan,” said the lady, raising her 
voice as the Laird left the room, “I wish ye may understand 
them yoursell, that’s a’ ! ” 

From this nuptial dialogue the Laird joyfully escaped to 


GUY M ANNE RING 


55 


meet his faithful friend, Mr. Kennedy, who arrived in high 
spirits. “For the love of life, Ellangowan,” he said, “get up 
to the castle ! you’ll see that old fox Dirk Hatteraick, and his 
Majesty’s hounds in full cry after him.” So saying, he flung 
his horse’s bridle to a boy, and ran up the ascent to the old 5 
castle, followed by the Laird, and indeed by several others of 
the family, alarmed by the sound of guns from the sea, now 
distinctly heard. 

On gaining that part of the ruins which commanded the 
most extensive outlook, they saw a lugger, with all her canvas 10 
crowded, standing across the bay, closely pursued by a sloop 
of war, that kept firing upon the chase from her bows, which 
the lugger returned with her stern-chasers. 0 “They’re but at 
long bowls yet,” cried Kennedy, in great exultation, “but 
they will be closer by and by. I see the good Nantz pitch- 15 
ing overboard, keg after keg ! — that’s an ungenteel thing of 
Mr. Hatteraick, as I shall let him know by and by. — Now, 
now ! they’ve got the wind of him ! — that’s it, that’s it ! — 
Hark to him ! hark to him ! Now, my dogs ! now, my dogs ! 

— hark to Ranger, hark !” 20 

“I think,” said the old gardener to one of the maids, “the 
gauger’s fie” ; by which word the common people express 
those violent spirits which they think a presage of death. 

Meantime the chase continued. The lugger, being piloted 
with great ability, and using every nautical shift to make her 25 
escape, had now reached, and was about to double, the head- 
land which formed the extreme point of land on the left side 
of the bay, when a ball having hit the yard in the slings, the 
main-sail fell upon the deck. The consequence of this acci- 
dent appeared inevitable, but could not be seen by the spec- 30 
tators ; for the vessel, which had just doubled the headland, 
lost steerage, and fell out of their sight behind the promontory. 
The sloop of war crowded all sail to pursue, but she had stood 


56 


GUY M ANNE RING 


too close upon the cape, so that they were obliged to wear the 
vessel for fear of going ashore, and to make a large tack back 
into the bay, in order to recover sea-room enough to double 
the headland. 

5 “They’ll lose her, cargo and lugger,. one or both,” said 
Kennedy; “I must gallop away to the Point of Warroch 
(this was the headland so often mentioned), and make them 
a signal where she has drifted to on the other side. Good-by 
for an hour, Ellangowan — get out the gallon punch-bowl and 
io plenty of lemons. I’ll stand for the French article by the 
time I come back, and we’ll drink the young Laird’s health in 
a bowl that would swim the Collector’s yawl.” So saying, he 
mounted his horse, and galloped off. 

About a mile from the house, and upon the verge of the 
15 woods, which, as we have said, covered a promontory ter- 
minating in the cape called the Point of Warroch, Kennedy 
met young Harry Bertram, attended by his tutor, Dominie 
Sampson. He had often promised the child a ride upon his 
galloway; and, from singing, dancing, and playing Punch 
20 for his amusement, was a particular favorite. He no sooner 
came scampering up the path, than the boy loudly claimed 
his promise; and Kennedy, who saw no risk in indulging 
him, and wished to tease the Dominie, in whose visage he 
read a remonstrance, caught up Harry from the ground, 
25 placed him before him, and continued his route; Sampson’s 

“Peradventure, Master Kennedy ” being lost in the 

clatter of his horse’s feet. The pedagogue hesitated a mo- 
ment whether he should go after them ; but Kennedy being 
a person in full confidence of the family, and with whom he 
30 himself had no delight in associating, “being that he was 
addicted unto profane and scurrilous jests,” he continued his 
own walk at his own pace, till he reached the Place of Ellan- 
gowan. 


GUY MANNERING 


57 


The spectators from the ruined walls of the castle were 
still watching the sloop of war, which at length, but not with- 
out the loss of considerable time, recovered sea-room enough 
to weather the Point of Warroch, and was lost to their sight 
behind that wooded promontory. Some time afterwards the 5 
discharges of several cannon were heard at a distance, and, 
after an interval, a still louder explosion, as of a vessel blown 
up, and a cloud of smoke rose above the trees, and mingled 
with the blue sky. All then separated on their different 
occasions, auguring variously upon the fate of the smuggler, 10 
but the majority insisting that her capture was inevitable, 
if she had not already gone to the bottom. 

“It is near our dinner-time, my dear,” said Mrs. Bertram 
to her husband ; “will it be lang before Mr. Kennedy comes 
back?” 15 

“I expect him every moment, my dear,” said the Laird; 
“perhaps he is bringing some of the officers of the sloop with 
him.” 

“My stars, Mr. Bertram! why did not ye tell me this 
before, that we might have had the large round table ? ■ — and 20 
then, they’re a’ tired o’ saut meat, and, to tell you the plain 
truth, a rump o’ beef is the best part of your dinner — and 
then I wad have put on another gown, and ye wadna have 
been the waur o’ a clean neckcloth yoursell — But ye delight 
in surprising and hurrying one — I am sure I am no to haud 25 
out for ever against this sort of going on — But when folk's 
missed, then they are moaned.” 

“Pshaw, pshaw! deuce take the beef, and the gown, and 
table, and the neckcloth ! — we shall do all very well. — 
Where’s the Dominie, John ? — (to a servant who was busy 30 
about the table) — where’s the Dominie and little Harry?” 

“Mr. Sampson’s been at hame these twa hours and mair, 
but I dinna think Mr. Harry cam hame wi’ him.” 


58 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“Not come hame wi’ him?” said the lady; “desire Mr. 
Sampson to step this way directly.” 

“Mr. Sampson,” said she, upon his entrance, “is it not 
the most extraordinary thing in this world wide, that you, 
5 that have free up-putting — bed, board, and washing — and 
twelve pounds sterling a year, just to look after that boy, 
should let him out of your sight for twa or three hours ? ” 

Sampson made a bow of humble acknowledgment at each 
pause which the angry lady made in her enumeration of the 
io advantages of his situation, in order to give more weight to 
her remonstrance, and then, in words which we will not do 
him the injustice to imitate, told how Mr. Francis Kennedy 
“had assumed spontaneously the charge of Master Harry, in 
despite of his remonstrances in the contrary.” 
is “I am very little obliged to Mr. Francis Kennedy for his 
pains,” said the lady peevishly; “suppose he lets the boy 
drop from his horse, and lames him? or suppose one of the 
cannons comes ashore and kills him? — or suppose ” 

“Or suppose, my dear,” said Ellangowan, “what is much 
20 more likely than anything else, that they have gone aboard 
the sloop or the prize, and are to come round the Point with 
the tide?” 

“And then they may be drowned,” said the lady. 

“Verily,” said Sampson, “I thought Mr. Kennedy had 
25 returned an hour since — Of a surety I deemed I heard his 
horse’s feet.” 

“That,” said John, with a broad grin, “was Grizzel chasing 
the humble-cow 1 out of the close.” 

Sampson colored up to the eyes — not at the implied taunt, 
30 which he would never have discovered, or resented if he had, 
but at some idea which crossed his own mind. “I have been 
in an error,” he said ; “of a surety I should have tarried for the 
1 A cow without horns. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


59 


babe.” So saying, he snatched his bone-headed cane and 
hat, and hurried away towards Warroch wood, faster than he 
was ever known to walk before, or after. 

The Laird lingered some time, debating the point with the 
lady. At length, he saw the sloop of war again make her 5 
appearance; but, without approaching the shore, she stood 
away to the westward with all her sails set, and was soon out 
of sight. The lady’s state of timorous and fretful apprehen- 
sion was so habitual, that her fears went for nothing with her 
lord and master ; but an appearance of disturbance and io 
anxiety among the servants now excited his alarm, especially 
when he was called out of the room, and told in private that 
Mr. Kennedy’s horse had come to the stable door alone, with 
the saddle turned round below its belly, and the reins of the 
bridle broken ; and that a farmer had informed them in pass- is 
ing, that there was a smuggling lugger burning like a furnace 
on the other side of the Point of Warroch, and that, though 
he had come through the wood, he had seen or heard nothing 
of Kennedy or the young Laird, “only there was Dominie 
Sampson, gaun rumpaugin about, like mad, seeking for them.” 20 

All was now bustle at Ellangowan. The Laird and his 
servants, male and female, hastened to the wood of Warroch. 
The tenants and cottagers in the neighborhood lent their 
assistance, partly out of zeal, partly from curiosity. Boats 
were manned to search the sea-shore, which, on the other 25 
side of the Point, rose into high and indented rocks. A vague 
suspicion was entertained, though too horrible to be expressed, 
that the child might have fallen from one of these cliffs. 

The evening had begun to close when the parties entered 
the wood, and dispersed different ways in quest of the boy 30 
and his companion. The darkening of the atmosphere, and 
the hoarse sighs of the November wind through the naked 
trees, the rustling of the withered leaves which strewed the 


60 


GUY MANNERING 


glades, the repeated halloos of the different parties, which 
often drew them together in expectation of meeting the 
objects of their search, gave a cast of dismal sublimity to 
the scene. 

5 At length, after a minute and fruitless investigation through 
the wood, the searchers began to draw together into one 
body, and to compare notes. The agony of the father grew 
beyond concealment, yet it scarcely equalled the anguish of 
the tutor. “Would to God I had died for him!” the affec- 
io tionate creature repeated, in notes of the deepest distress. 

At this instant a shout was heard from the beach, so loud, 
so shrill, so piercing, so different from every sound which the 
woods that day had rung to, that nobody hesitated a moment 
to believe that it conveyed tidings, and tidings of dreadful 
15 import. All hurried to the place, and, venturing without 
scruple upon paths, which, at another time, they would have 
shuddered to look at, descended towards a cleft of the rock, 
where one boat’s crew was already landed. “Here, sirs! — 
here ! — this way, for God’s sake ! — this way ! this way ! ” 
20 was the reiterated cry. Ellangowan broke through the 
throng which had already assembled at the fatal spot, and 
beheld the object of their terror. It was the dead body of 
Kennedy. At first sight he seemed to have perished by a 
fall from the rocks, which rose above the spot on which he 
25 lay, in a perpendicular precipice of a hundred feet above the 
beach. The corpse was lying half in, half out of the water; 
the advancing tide, raising the arm and stirring the clothes, 
had given it at some distance the appearance of motion, so 
that those who first discovered the body thought that life 
30 remained. But every spark had been long extinguished. 

“My bairn ! my bairn ! ” cried the distracted father, “where 
can he be ? ” — A dozen mouths were opened to communicate 
hopes which no one felt. Some one at length mentioned 


GUY M ANNE RING 


61 


the gypsies ! In a moment Ellangowan had reascended the 
cliffs, flung himself upon the first horse he met, and rode 
furiously to the huts at Derncleugh. All was there dark 
and desolate; and, as he dismounted to make more minute 
search, he stumbled over fragments of furniture which had 5 
been thrown out of the cottages, and the broken wood and 
thatch which had been pulled down by his orders. At that 
moment the prophecy, or anathema, of Meg Merrilies fell 
heavy on his mind. “You have stripped the thatch from 
seven cottages, — see that the roof-tree of your own house 10 
stand the surer I ” 

“Restore,” he cried, “restore my bairn ! bring me back my 
son, and all shall be forgot and forgiven 1” As he uttered 
these words in a sort of frenzy, his eye caught a glimmering of 
light in one of the dismantled cottages — it was that in which 15 
Meg Merrilies formerly resided. The light, which seemed to 
proceed from fire, glimmered not only through the window, 
but also through the rafters of the hut where the roofing had 
been torn off. 

He flew to the place ; the entrance was bolted ; despair 20 
gave the miserable father the strength of ten men ; he rushed 
against the door with such violence, that it gave way before 
the momentum of his weight and force. The cottage was 
empty, but bore marks of recent habitation — there was fire 
on the hearth, a kettle, and some preparation for food. As 25 
he eagerly gazed around for something that might confirm his 
hope that his child yet lived, although in the power of those 
strange people, a man entered the hut. 

It was his old gardener. “O sir !” said the old man, “such 
a night as this I trusted never to live to see ! — ye maun come 30 
to the Place directly!” 

“Is my boy found? is he alive? have ye found Harry 
Bertram ? Andrew, have ye found Harry Bertram ? ” 


62 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“No, sir; but ” 

“Then he is kidnapped! I am sure of it, Andrew! as 
sure as that I tread upon earth ! She has stolen him — and 
I will never stir from this place till I have tidings of my 
S bairn ! ” 

“Oh, but ye maun come hame, sir! ye maun come hame! 
— We have sent for the Sheriff, and we’ll set a watch here 
a’ night, in case the gypsies return ; but you — ye maun come 

hame, sir, for my lady’s in the dead-thraw.” 1 

io Bertram turned a stupefied and unmeaning eye on the 
messenger who uttered this calamitous news ; and, repeating 
the words, “in the dead-thraw!” as if he could not compre- 
hend their meaning, suffered the old man to drag him towards 
his horse. During the ride home, he only said, “Wife and 
15 bairn, baith — mother and son, baith — Sair, sair to abide l” 

It is needless to dwell upon the new scene of agony which 
awaited him. The news of Kennedy’s fate had been eagerly 
and incautiously communicated at Ellangowan, with the 
gratuitous addition, that, doubtless, “he had drawn the young 
20 Laird over the craig with him, though the tide had swept 
away the child’s body — he was light, puir thing, and would 
flee farther into the surf.” 

Mrs. Bertram heard the tidings; she was far advanced in 
her pregnancy; she fell into the pains of premature labor, 
25 and, ere Ellangowan had recovered his agitated faculties, so 
as to comprehend the full distress of his situation, he was the 
father of a female infant, and a widower. 


1 Death-agony. 


CHAPTER X 


But see, his face is black, and full of blood ;° 

His eye-balls farther out than when he lived, 

Staring full ghastly like a strangled man ; 

His hair uprear’d, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling, 

His hands abroad display’d, as one that gasp’d 
And tugg’d for life, and was by strength subdued. 

Henry VI., Part 2 . 

The Sheriff-depute of the county arrived at Ellangowan next 
morning by daybreak. To this provincial magistrate the law 
of Scotland assigns judicial powers of considerable extent, and 
the task of inquiring into all crimes committed within his juris- 
diction, the apprehension and commitment of suspected per- 5 
sons, and so forth. 1 

The gentleman who held the office in the shire of at 

the time of this catastrophe, was well born and well educated ; 
and, though somewhat pedantic and professional in his 
habits, he enjoyed general respect as an active and intelligent 10 
magistrate. His first employment was to examine all wit- 
nesses whose evidence could throw light upon this mysterious 
event, and make up the written report, proces verbal, or precog- 
nition, as it is technically called, which the practice of Scotland 
has substituted for a coroner’s inquest. Under the Sheriff’s 15 
minute and skilful inquiry, many circumstances appeared, 
which seemed incompatible with the original opinion, that 
Kennedy had accidentally fallen from the cliffs. 

1 The Scottish Sheriff discharges, on such occasions as that 
now mentioned, pretty much the same duty as a Coroner. 

63 


64 


GUY M ANNE RING 


The body had been deposited in a neighboring fisher-hut, 
but without altering the condition in which it was found. 
This was the first object of the Sheriff’s examination. Though 
fearfully crushed and mangled by the fall from such a height, 
5 the corpse was found to exhibit a deep cut in the head, which, 
in the opinion of a skilful surgeon, must have been inflicted 
by a broadsword, or cutlass. The experience of this gentle- 
man discovered other suspicious indications. The face was 
much blackened, the eyes distorted, and the veins of the neck 
io swelled. A colored handkerchief, which the unfortunate man 
had worn round his neck, did not present the usual appearance, 
but was much loosened, and the knot displaced and dragged 
extremely tight : the folds were also compressed, as if it had 
been used as a means of grappling the deceased, and dragging 
is him perhaps to the precipice. 

On the other hand, poor Kennedy’s purse was found un- 
touched; and, what seemed yet more extraordinary, the 
pistols which he usually carried when about to encounter 
any hazardous adventure, were found in his pockets loaded. 
20 This appeared particularly strange, for he was known and 
dreaded by the contraband traders as a man equally fearless 
and dexterous in the use of his weapons, of which he had 
given many signal proofs. The Sheriff inquired, whether 
Kennedy was not in the practice of carrying any other arms ? 
2 5 Most of Mr. Bertram’s servants recollected that he generally 
had a couteau de chasse, or short hanger, but none such was 
found upon the dead body; nor could those who had seen 
him on the morning of the fatal day, take it upon them to 
assert whether he then carried that weapon or not. 

30 The corpse afforded no other indicia 0 respecting the fate of 
Kennedy ; for, though the clothes were much displaced, and 
the limbs dreadfully fractured, the one seemed the probable, 
the other the certain, consequences of such a fall. The 


GUY M ANNE RING 


65 


hands of the deceased were clenched fast, and full of turf 
and earth ; but this also seemed equivocal. 

The magistrate then proceeded to the place where the 
corpse was first discovered, and made those who had found 
it give, upon the spot, a particular and detailed account of 5 
the manner in which it was lying. A large fragment of the 
rock appeared to have accompanied, or followed, the fall 
of the victim from the cliff above. It was of so solid and 
compact a substance, that it had fallen without any great 
diminution by splintering, so that the Sheriff was enabled, 10 
first, to estimate the weight by measurement, and then to 
calculate, from tjie appearance of the fragment, what portion 
of it had been bedded into the cliff from which it had de- 
scended. This was easily detected, by the raw appearance 
of the stone where it had not been exposed to the atmosphere. 15 
They then ascended the cliff, and surveyed the place from 
whence the stony fragment had fallen. It seemed plain, 
from the appearance of the bed, that the mere weight of one 
man standing upon the projecting part of the fragment, 
supposing it in its original situation, could not have destroyed 20 
its balance, and precipitated it, with himself, from the cliff. 

At the same time, it appeared to have lain so loose, that the 
use of a lever, or the combined strength of three or four men, 
might easily have hurled it from its position. The short turf 
about the brink of the precipice was much trampled, as if 25 
stamped by the heels of men in a mortal struggle, or in the 
act of some violent exertion. Traces of the same kind, less 
visibly marked, guided the sagacious investigator to the 
verge of the copsewood, which, in that place, crept high up 
the bank towards the top of the precipice. 30 

With patience and perseverance, they traced these marks 
into the thickest part of the copse, a route which no person 
would have voluntarily adopted, unless for the purpose of 
F 


66 


GUY M ANNE RING 


concealment. Here they found plain vestiges of violence 
and struggling, from space to space. Small boughs were torn 
down, as if grasped by some resisting wretch who was dragged 
forcibly along; the ground, where in the least degree soft or 
5 marshy, showed the print of many feet ; there were vestiges 
also, which might be those of human blood. At any rate, 
it was certain that several persons must have forced their 
passage among the oaks, hazels, and underwood, with which 
they were mingled; and in some places appeared traces, as 
ioif a sack full of grain, a dead body, or something of that 
heavy and solid description, had been dragged along the 
ground. In one part of the thicket there was a small swamp, 
the clay of which was whitish, being probably mixed with 
marl. The back of Kennedy’s coat appeared besmeared 
15 with stains of the same color. 

At length, about a quarter of a mile from the brink of the 
fatal precipice, the traces conducted them to a small open 
space of ground, very much trampled, and plainly stained 
with blood, although withered leaves had been strewed upon 
20 the spot, and other means hastily taken to efface the marks, 
which seemed obviously to have been derived from a desper- 
ate affray. On one side of this patch of open ground, was 
found the sufferer’s naked hanger, which seemed to have 
been thrown into the thicket; on the other, the belt and 
25 sheath, which appeared to have been hidden with more 
leisurely care and precaution. 

The magistrate caused the footprints 0 which marked this 
spot to be carefully measured and examined. Some corre- 
sponded to the foot of the unhappy victim ; some were larger, 
30 some less ; indicating, that at least four or five men had been 
busy around him. Above all, here, and here only, were ob- 
served the vestiges of a child’s foot ; and as it could be seen 
nowhere else, and the hard horse-track which traversed the 


GUY M ANNE RING 


67 


wood of Warroch was contiguous to the spot, it was natural 
to think that the boy might have escaped in that direction 
during the confusion. But as he was never heard of, the 
Sheriff, who made a careful entry of all these memoranda, 
did not suppress his opinion, that the deceased had met 5 
with foul play, and that the murderers, whoever they were, 
had possessed themselves of the person of the child Harry 
Bertram. 

Every exertion was now made to discover the criminals. 
Suspicion hesitated between the smugglers and the gypsies. 10 
The fate of Dirk Hatteraick’s vessel was certain. Two men 
from the opposite side of Warroch Bay (so the inlet on the 
southern side of the Point of Warroch is called) had seen, 
though at a great distance, the lugger drive eastward, after 
doubling the headland, and, as they judged from her 15 
manoeuvres, in a disabled state. Shortly after, they per- 
ceived that she grounded, smoked, and, finally, took fire. 
She was, as one of them expressed himself, in a light low 
(bright flame) when they observed a king’s ship, with her 
colors up, heave in sight from behind the cape. The guns 20 
of the burning vessel discharged themselves as the fire reached 
them ; and they saw her, at length, blow up with a great ex- 
plosion. The sloop of war kept aloof for her own safety ; and, 
after hovering till the other exploded, stood away southward 
under a press of sail. The Sheriff anxiously interrogated these 25 
men whether any boats had left the vessel. They could not 
say — they had seen none — but they might have put off in 
such a direction as placed the burning vessel, and the thick 
smoke which floated landward from it, between their course 
and the witnesses’ observation. 30 

That the ship destroyed was Dirk .Hatteraick’s, no one 
doubted. His lugger was well known on the coast, and had 
been expected just at this time. A letter from the com- 


68 


GUY MAN BERING 


raander of the king’s sloop, to whom the Sheriff made applica- 
tion, put the matter beyond doubt ; he sent also an extract 
from his log-book of the transactions of the day, which inti- 
mated their being on the outlook for a smuggling lugger, Dirk 
5 Hatteraick master, upon the information and requisition of 
Francis Kennedy, of his Majesty’s excise service; and that 
Kennedy was to be upon the outlook on the shore, in case 
Hatteraick, who was known to be a desperate fellow, and 
had been repeatedly outlawed, should attempt to run his 
xo sloop aground. About nine o’clock a.m. they discovered a 
sail, which answered the description of Hatteraick’s vessel, 
chased her, and after repeated signals to her to show colors 
and bring-to, fired upon her. The chase then showed Ham- 
burgh colors, and returned the fire ; and a running fight was 
15 maintained for three hours, when, just as the lugger was 
doubling the Point of Warroch, they observed that the main- 
yard was shot in the slings, and that the vessel was disabled. 
It was not in the power of the man-of-war’s men for some 
time to profit by this circumstance, owing to their having 
20 kept too much in-shore for doubling the headland. After 
two tacks, they accomplished this, and observed the chase on 
fire, and apparently deserted. The fire having reached some 
casks of spirits, which were placed on the deck, with other 
combustibles, probably on purpose, burnt with such fury that 
25 no boats durst approach the vessel, especially as her shotted 
guns were discharging, one after another, by the heat. The 
captain had no doubt whatever that the crew had set the 
vessel on fire, and escaped in their boats. After watching 
the conflagration till the ship blew up, his Majesty’s sloop, 
30 the Shark, stood towards the Isle of Man, with the purpose 
of intercepting the retreat of the smugglers, who, though 
they might conceal themselves in the woods for a day or two, 
would probably take the first opportunity of endeavoring to 


GUY MANNERING 69 

make for this asylum. But they never saw more of them than 
is above narrated. 

As, therefore, it seemed tolerably certain that the men on 
board the lugger had escaped, the death of Kennedy, if he 
fell in with them in the woods, when irritated by the loss of 5 
their vessel, and by the share he had in it, was easily to be 
accounted for. And it was not improbable, that to such 
brutal tempers, rendered desperate by their own circum- 
stances, even the murder of the child, against whose father, 
as having become suddenly active in the prosecution of 10 
smugglers, Hatter aick was known to have uttered deep 
threats, would not appear a very heinous crime. 

Against this hypothesis it was urged, that a crew of fifteen 
or twenty men could not have lain hidden upon the coast, 
when so close a search took place immediately after the is 
destruction of their vessel ; or, at least, that if they had hid 
themselves in the woods, their boats must have been seen on 
the beach ; — that in such precarious circumstances, and when 
all retreat must have seemed difficult, if not impossible, it was 
not to be thought that they would have all united to commit 20 
a useless murder, for the mere sake of revenge. Those who 
held this opinion, supposed, either that the boats of the lugger 
had stood out to sea without being observed by those who 
were intent upon gazing at the burning vessel, and so gained 
safe distance before the sloop got round the head-land ; or 25 
else, that, the boats being staved or destroyed by the fire of 
the Shark during the chase, the crew had obstinately deter- 
mined to perish with the vessel. 

Another opinion, which was also plausibly supported, went 
to charge this horrid crime upon the late tenants of Dern- 30 
cleugh. They were known to have resented highly the con- 
duct of the Laird of Ellangowan towards them, and to have 
used threatening expressions, which every one supposed them 


70 


GUY MANNERING 


capable of carrying into effect. The kidnapping the child was 
a crime much more consistent with their habits than with 
those of smugglers, and his temporary guardian might have 
fallen in an attempt to protect him. Besides it was remem- 
S bered that Kennedy had been an active agent, two or three 
days before, in the forcible expulsion of these people from 
Derncleugh, and that harsh and menacing language had been 
exchanged between him and some of the Egyptian patriarchs 
on that memorable occasion. 

io The Sheriff received also the depositions of the unfortunate 
father and his servant, concerning what had passed at their 
meeting the caravan of gypsies as they left the estate of Ellan- 
gowan. The speech of Meg Merrilies seemed particularly 
suspicious. There was, as the magistrate observed in his 
is law language, damnum minatum — a damage, or evil turn, 
threatened, and malum secutum — an evil of the very kind pre- 
dicted shortly afterwards following. A young woman, who 
had been gathering nuts in Warroch wood upon the fatal day, 
was also strongly of opinion, though she declined to make 
20 positive oath, that she had seen Meg Merrilies, at least a 
woman of her remarkable size and appearance, start suddenly 
out of a thicket — she said she had called to her by name, but, 
as the figure turned from her, and made no answer, she was 
uncertain if it were the gypsy, or her wraith, and was afraid to 
25 go nearer to one who was always reckoned, in the vulgar 
phrase, no canny. This vague story received some corrobora- 
tion from the circumstance of a fire being that evening found 
in the gypsy’s deserted cottage. To this fact Ellangowan and 
his gardener bore evidence. Yet it seemed extravagant to 
30 suppose, that, had this woman been accessory to such a 
dreadful crime, she would have returned that very evening on 
which it was committed, to the place, of all others, where she 
was most likely to be sought after. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


71 


Meg Merrilies was, however, apprehended and examined. 
She denied strongly having been either at Derncleugh or in 
the wood of Warroch upon the day of Kennedy’s death; and 
several of her tribe made oath in her behalf, that she had 
never quitted their encampment, which was in a glen about 5 
ten miles distant from Ellangowan. Their oaths were indeed 
little to be trusted to ; but what other evidence could be had 
in the circumstances? There was one remarkable fact, and 
only one, which arose from her examination. Her arm 
appeared to be slightly wounded by the cut of a sharp weapon, 10 
and was tied up with a handkerchief of Harry Bertram’s. 
But the chief of the horde acknowledged he had “corrected 
her” that day with his whinger — she herself, and others, gave 
the same account of her hurt ; and, for the handkerchief, the 
quantity of linen stolen from Ellangowan during the last 15 
months of their residence on the estate, easily accounted for 
it, without charging Meg with a more heinous crime. 

It was observed upon her examination, that she treated the 
questions respecting the death of Kennedy, or “the gauger,” 
as she called him, with indifference ; but expressed great and 20 
emphatic scorn and indignation at being supposed capable of 
injuring little Harry Bertram. She was long confined in jail, 
under the hope that something might yet be discovered to 
throw light upon this dark and bloody transaction. Nothing, 
however, occurred; and Meg was at length liberated, but 25 
under sentence of banishment from the county, as a vagrant, 
common thief, and disorderly person. No traces of the boy 
could ever be discovered; and, at length, the story, after 
making much noise, was gradually given up as altogether 
unexplicable, and only perpetuated by the name of “The 30 
Gauger’s Loup,” which was generally bestowed on the cliff 
from which the unfortunate man had fallen, or been pre- 
cipitated. 


CHAPTER XI 


Enter Time , as Chorus 

I — that please some, try all ; both joy and terror® 

Of good and bad ; that make and unfold error — 

Now take upon me, in the name of Time, 

To use my wings. Impute it not a crime 
To me, or my swift passage, that I slide 
O’er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried 
Of that wide gap. — 

Winter’s Tale. 

In the month of November, about seventeen years after 
the catastrophe related in the last chapter, during a cold and 
stormy night, a social group had closed around the kitchen 
fire of the Gordon Arms at Kippletringan, a small but com- 
5 fortable inn, kept by Mrs. Mac-Candlish in that village. The 
conversation which passed among them will save me the 
trouble of telling the few events occurring during this chasm 
in our history, with which it is necessary that the reader 
should be acquainted. 

io Mrs. Mac-Candlish, throned in a comfortable easy chair 
lined with black leather, was regaling herself, and a neigh- 
boring gossip or two, with a cup of genuine tea, and at the 
same time keeping a sharp eye upon her domestics, as they 
went and came in prosecution of their various duties and com- 
15 missions. The clerk and precentor 0 of the parish enjoyed at 
a little distance his Saturday night’s pipe, and aided its bland 
fumigation by an occasional sip of brandy and water. Deacon 

72 


GUY M ANNE RING 


73 


Bearcliff, a man of great importance in the village, combined 
the indulgence of both parties — he had his pipe and his tea- 
cup, the latter being laced with a little spirits. One or two 
clowns 0 sat at some distance, drinking their twopenny ale. 

“Are ye sure the parlor’s ready for them, and the fire burn- 5 
ing clear, and the chimney no smoking?” said the hostess 
to a chambermaid. 

She was answered in the affirmative.- — “Ane wadna be 
uncivil to them, especially in their distress,” said she, turning 
to the Deacon. 10 

“Assuredly not, Mrs. Mac-Candlish ; assuredly not. I am 
sure ony sma’ thing they might want frae my shop, under 
seven, or eight, or ten pounds, I would book them as readily 
for it as the first in the country. — Do they come in the auld 
chaise?” 15 

“I dare say no,” said the precentor; “for Miss Bertram 
comes on the white powny ilka day to the kirk — and a 
constant kirk-keeper she is — - and it’s a pleasure to hear her 
singing the psalms, winsome young thing.” 

“Ay, and the young Laird of Hazlewood rides hame half 20 
the road wi’ her after sermon,” said one of the gossips in com- 
pany; “I wonder how auld Hazlewood likes that.” 

“I kenna how he may like it now,” answered another of the 
tea-drinkers; “but the day has been when Ellangowan wad 
hae liked as little to see his daughter taking up with their 25 
son.” 

“Ay, has been” answered the first, with somewhat of 
emphasis. 

“I am sure, neighbor Ovens,” said the hostess, “the Hazle- 
woods of Hazlewood, though they are a very gude auld family 30 
in the county, never thought, till within these twa score o’ 
years, of evening themselves till the Ellangowans — Wow, 
woman, the Bertrams of Ellangowan are the auld Dingawaies 


74 


GUY M ANNE RING 


lang syne — there is a sang about ane o’ them marrying a 
daughter of the King of Man ; it begins 

‘ Blythe Bertram’s ta’en him ower the faem, 

To wed a wife, and bring her hame ’ 

5 I daur say Mr. Skreigh can sing us the ballant.” 

“Gudewife,” said Skreigh, gathering up his mouth, and 
sipping his tiff of brandy punch with great solemnity, “our 
talents were gien us to other use than to sing daft auld sangs 
sae near the Sabbath day.” 

io “Hout fie, Mr. Skreigh; I’se warrant I hae heard you sing 
a blythe sang on Saturday at e’en before now. — But as for the 
chaise, Deacon, it hasna been out of the coach-house since 
Mrs. Bertram died, that’s sixteen or seventeen years sin syne 

— Jock Jabos is away wi’ a chaise of mine for them; — I 
15 wonder he’s no come back. It’s pit mirk — but there’s no 

an ill turn on the road but twa, and the brigg ower Warroch 
burn is safe eneugh, if he haud to the right side. But then 
there’s Heavieside-brae, that’s just a murder for post-cattle 

— but Jock kens the road brawly.” 

20 A loud rapping was heard at the door. 

“That’s no them. I dinna hear the wheels. — Grizzel, ye 
limmer, gang to the door.” 

“It’s a single gentleman,” whined out Grizzel; “maun I 
take him into the parlor?” 

25 “Foul be in your feet, then; it’ll be some English rider. 
Coming without a servant at this time o’ night ! — Has the 
ostler ta’en the horse? — Ye may light a spunk o’ fire in the 
red room.” 

“I wish, ma’am,” said the traveller, entering the kitchen, 
30 “you would give me leave to warm myself here, for the night 
is very cold.” 

His appearance, voice, and manner, produced an instantane- 


GUY MANNERING 


75 


ous effect in his favor. He was a handsome, tall, thin figure, 
dressed in black, as appeared when he laid aside his riding- 
coat; his age might be between forty and fifty; his cast of 
features grave and interesting, and his air somewhat military. 
Every point of his appearance and address bespoke the gentle- 5 
man. Long habit had given Mrs. Mac-Candlish an acute tact 
in ascertaining the quality of her visitors, and proportioning 
her reception accordingly ; — 

To every guest the appropriate speech was made,® 

And every duty with distinction paid ; io 

Respectful, easy, pleasant, or polite — 

“Your honor’s servant ! — Mister Smith, good night.” 

On the present occasion, she was low in her curtsey, and 
profuse in her apologies. The stranger begged his horse 
might be attended to — she went out herself to school the 15 
hostler. 

“There was never a prettier bit o’ horse-flesh in the stable 
o’ the Gordon Arms,” said the man; which information in- 
creased the landlady’s respect for the rider. Finding, on her 
return, that the stranger declined to go into another apart- 20 
ment (which, indeed, she allowed, would be but cold and 
smoky till the fire bleezed up), she installed her guest hospit- 
ably by the fireside, and offered what refreshment her house 
afforded. 

“A cup of your tea, ma’am, if you will favor me.” 25 

Mrs. Mac-Candlish bustled about, reinforced her teapot 
with hyson, and proceeded in her duties with her best grace. 
“We have a very nice parlor, sir, and everything very agree- 
able for gentlefolks ; but it’s bespoke the night for a gentleman 
and his daughter, that are going to leave this part of the 30 
country — ane of my chaises is gane for them, and will be 
back forthwith — they’re no sae weel in the warld as they 
have been ; but we’re a’ subject to ups and downs in this life, 


76 


GUV MANNERING 


as your honor must needs ken — but is not the tobacco-reek 
disagreeable to your honor?” 

“By no means, ma’am ; I am an old campaigner, and per- 
fectly used to it. — Will you permit me to make some in- 
5 quiries about a family in this neighborhood?” 

The sound of wheels was now heard, and the landlady 
hurried to the door to receive her expected guests; but re- 
turned in an instant, followed by the postilion — “No, they 
canna come at no rate, the Laird’s sae ill.” 
io “But God help them,” said the landlady, “the morn’s the 
term — the very last day they can bide in the house — a’ 
thing’s to be roupit.” 

“Weel, but they can come at no rate, I tell ye — Mr. 
Bertram canna be moved.” 

is “What Mr. Bertram?” said the stranger; “not Mr. 
Bertram of Ellangowan, I hope?” 

“Just e’en that same, sir; and if ye be a friend o’ his, ye 
have come at a time when he’s sair bested.” 

“I have been abroad for many years — is his health so 
20 much deranged ? ” 

“Ay, and his affairs an’ a’,” said the Deacon ; “the creditors 
have entered into possession o’ the estate, and it’s for sale; 
and some that made the maist by him — I name nae names, 
but Mrs. Mac-Candlish kens wha I mean — (the landlady 
2 5 shook her head significantly) they’re sairest on hiiu e’en now. 
I have a sma’ matter due mysell, but I would rather have lost 
it than gane to turn the auld man out of his house, and him 
just dying.” 

“Ay, but,” said the parish-clerk, “Factor Glossin wants to 
30 get rid of the auld Laird, and drive on the sale, for fear the 
heir-male should cast up upon them ; for I have heard say, if 
there was an heir-male, they couldna sell the estate for auld 
Ellangowan’s debt,” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


77 


“He had a son born a good many years ago,” said the 
stranger; “he is dead, I suppose?” 

“Nae man can say for that,” answered the clerk mys- 
teriously. 

“Dead!” said the Deacon, “Fse warrant him dead lang 5 
syne ; he hasna been heard o’ these twenty years or thereby.” 

“I wot weel it’s no twenty years,” said the landlady; “it’s 
no abune seventeen at the outside in this very month; it 
made an unco noise ower a’ this country — the bairn dis- 
appeared the very day that Supervisor Kennedy cam by his 10 
end. — If ye kenn’d this country lang syne, your honor wad 
maybe ken Frank Kennedy the Supervisor. He was a heart- 
some pleasant man, and company for the best gentlemen in 
the county, and muckle mirth he’s made in this house. Oh, 
an he could hae hauden aff the smugglers a bit! but he was 15 
aye venturesome. — And so ye see, sir, there was a king’s 
sloop down in Wigton Bay, and Frank Kennedy, he behoved 
to have her up to chase Dirk Hatteraick’s lugger — ye’ll 
mind Dirk Hatteraick, Deacon? I dare say ye may have 
dealt wi’ him — (the Deacon gave a sort of acquiescent nod 20 
and humph). He was a daring chield, and he fought his ship 
till she blew up like peelings of ingans ; and Frank Kennedy 
he had been the first man to board, and he was flung like a 
quarter of a mile off, and fell into the water below the rock 
at Warroch Point, that they ca’ the Gauger’s Loup to this 25 
day.” 

“And Mr. Bertram’s child,” said the stranger, “what is all 
this to him?” 

“Ou, sir, the bairn aye held an unca wark wi’ the Super- 
visor ; and it was generally thought he went on board the 30 
vessel alang wi’ him, as bairns are aye forward to be in mis- 
chief.” 

“No, no,” said the Deacon, “ye’re clean out there, Luckie 


78 


GUY MANNERING 


— for the young Laird was stown away by a randy gypsy 
woman they ca’d Meg Merrilies, - — I mind her looks weel, 

— in revenge for Ellangowan having gar’d her be drumm’d 
through Kippletringan for stealing a silver spoon.” 

5 “If ye’ll forgie me, Deacon,” said the precentor, “ye’re 
e’en as far wrang as the gudewife.” 

“And what is your edition of the story, sir?” said the 
stranger, turning to him with interest. 

“That’s maybe no sae canny to tell,” said the precentor, 
io with solemnity. 

Upon being urged, however, to speak out, he preluded 
with two or three large puffs of tobacco-smoke, and out of 
the cloudy sanctuary which these whiffs formed around him, 
delivered the following legend, having cleared his voice with 
15 one or two hems, and imitating, as near as he could, the 
eloquence which weekly thundered over his head from the 
pulpit. 

“What we are now to deliver, my brethren, — hem — hem, 

— I mean, my good friends, — was not done in a corner, and 
20 may serve as an answer to witch-advocates, atheists, and 

misbelievers of all kinds. — Ye must know that the worshipful 
Laird of Ellangowan was not so preceese as he might have 
been in clearing his land of witches (concerning whom it is 
said, ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’), nor of those 
25 who had familiar spirits, and consulted with divination, and 
sorcery, and lots, which is the fashion with the Egyptians, 
as they ca’ themsells, and other unhappy bodies, in this our 
country. And the Laird was three years married without 
having a family — and he was sae left to himsell, that it was 
30 thought he held ower muckle troking and communing wi’ 
that Meg Merrilies, wha was the maist notorious witch in 
a’ Galloway and Dumfriesshire baith.” 

“Aweel I wot there’s something in that,” said Mrs. Mac- 


GUY M ANNE RING 


79 


Candlish; “I’ve kenn’d him order her twa glasses o’ brandy 
in this very house.” 

“Aweel, gudewife, then the less I lee. — Sae the lady was 
wi’ bairn at last, and in the night when she should have been 
delivered, there comes to the door of the ha’ house — the 5 
Place of Ellangowan as they ca’d — an ancient man, strangely 
habited, and asked for quarters. His head, and his legs, and 
his arms were bare, although it was winter time o’ the year, 
and he had a gray beard three quarters lang. Weel, he was 
admitted ; and when the lady was delivered, he craved to 10 
know the very moment of the hour of the birth, and he went 
out and consulted the stars. And when he came back, he 
tell’d the Laird, that the Evil One wad have power over the 
knave-bairn, that was that night born, and he charged him 
that the babe should be bred up in the ways of piety, and 15 
that he should aye hae a godly minister at his elbow, to pray 
toi* the bairn and/or him. And the aged man vanished away, 
and no man of this country saw mair o’ him.” 

“Now, that will not pass,” said the postilion, who, at a 
respectful distance, was listening to the conversatibn, “begging 20 
Mr. Skreigh’s and the company’s pardon, — there was no 
sae inony hairs on the warlock’s face as there’s on Letter- 
Gae’s 1 ain at this moment ; and he had as gude a pair o’ 
boots as a man need streik on his legs, and gloves too ; — 
and I should understand boots by this time, I think.” 25 

“Whisht, Jock,” said the landlady. 

“Ay ? and what do ye ken o’ the matter, friend Jabos?” 
said the precentor contemptuously. 

“No muckle, to be sure, Mr. Skreigh — only that I lived 
within a penny-stane cast o’ the head o’ the avenue at Elian- 30 
gowan, when a man cam jingling to our door that night the 

1 The precentor is called by Allan Ramsay, — “The Letter- 
Gae of haly rhyme.” 


80 


GUY M ANNE RING 


young Laird was born, and my mother sent me, that was a 
hafflin callant, to show the stranger the gate to the Place, 
which, if he had been sic a warlock, he might hae kenn’d 
himsell, ane wad think — and he was a young, weel-faured, 
5 weel-dressed lad, like an Englishman. And I tell ye he had 
as gude a hat, and boots, and gloves, as ony gentleman need to 
have. To be sure he did gie an awesome glance up at the auld 
castle — and there was some spae-work gaed on — I aye heard 
that ; but as for his vanishing, I held the stirrup mysell when 
io he gaed away, and he gied me a round half-crown.” 

“Aweel, aweel, Jock,” answered Mr. Skreigh, with a tone of 
mild solemnity, “our accounts differ in no material particulars ; 
but I had no knowledge that ye had seen the man. — So ye 
see, my friends, that this soothsayer, having prognosticated 
is evil to the boy, his father engaged a godly minister to be with 
him morn and night.” 

“Ay, that was him they ca’d Dominie Sampson,” said the 
postilion. 

“He’s but a dumb dog that,” observed the Deacon; “I 
20 have heard {hat he never could preach five words of a sermon 
endlang, for as lang as he has been licensed.” 

“Weel, but,” said the precentor, waving his hand, as if 
eager to retrieve the command of the discourse, “he waited on 
the young Laird by night and day. Now, it chanced, when 
25 the bairn was near five years auld, that the Laird had a sight 
of his errors, and determined to put these Egyptians aff his 
ground; and he caused them to remove; and that Frank 
Kennedy, that was a rough swearing fellow, he was sent to 
turn them off. And he cursed and damned at them, and they 
3oswure at him; and that Meg Merrilies, that was the maist 
powerfu’ with the Enemy of Mankind, she as gude as said she 
would have him, body and soul, before three days were ower 
his head. And I Have it from a sure hand, and that’s ane wha 


GUY MANN BRING 


81 


saw it, and that’s John Wilson, that was the Laird’s groom, 
that Meg appeared to the Laird as he was riding hame from 
Singleside, over Gibbie’s-know, and threatened him wi’ what 
she wad do to his family ; but whether it was Meg, or some- 
thing waur in her likeness, for it seemed bigger than ony 5 
mortal creature, John could not say.” 

“And what was the end of all this ? ” said the stranger, with 
some impatience. 

“Ou, the event and upshot of it was, sir,” said the precentor, 
“that while they were all looking on, beholding a king’s ship 10 
chase a smuggler, this Kennedy suddenly brake away frae 
them without ony reason that could be descried — ropes nor 
tows wad not hae held him — and made for the wood of War- 
roeh as fast as his beast could carry him ; and by the way he 
met the young Laird and his governor, and he snatched up 15 
the bairn, and swure, if he was bewitched, the bairn should 
have the same luck as him; and the minister followed as 
fast as he could, and almaist as fast as them, for he was 
wonderfully swift of foot — and he saw Meg the witch, or 
her master in her similitude, rise suddenly out of the ground, 20 
and claught the bairn suddenly out of the gauger’s arms — 
and then he rampauged and drew his sword — for ye ken a 
fie man and a cusser fearsna the deil.” 

“I believe that’s very true,” said the postilion. 

“So, sir, she grippit him, and clodded him like a stane from 25 
the sling ower the craigs of Warroch Head, where he was found 
that evening — but what became of the babe, frankly I cannot 
say. But he that was minister here then, that’s now in a better 
place, had an opinion, that the bairn was only conveyed to 
Fairyland for a season.” 30 

The stranger had smiled slightly at some parts of this recital, 
but ere he could answer, the clatter of a horse’s hoofs was 
heard, and a smart servant, handsomely dressed, with a 
G 


82 


GUY M ANNE RING 


cockade in his hat, bustled into the kitchen, with “Make a 
little room, good people”; when, observing the stranger, he 
descended at once into the modest and civil domestic, his hat 
sunk down by his side, and he put a letter into his master’s 
S hands. “The family at Ellangowan, sir, are in great distress 
and unable to receive any visits.” 

“I know it,” replied his master : — “And now, madam, if 
you will have the goodness to allow me to occupy the parlor 

you mentioned, as you are disappointed of your guests ” 

io “Certainly, sir,” said Mrs. Mac-Candlish, and hastened to 
light the way with all the imperative bustle which an active 
landlady loves to display on such occasions. 

“Young man,” said the Deacon to the servant, filling a 
glass, “ye’ll no be the waur o’ this, after your ride.” 

15 “Not a feather, sir, — thank ye — your very good health, 
sir.” 

“And wha may your master be, friend?” 

“What, the gentleman that was here? — that’s the famous 
Colonel Mannering, sir, from the East Indies.” 

20 “What, him we read of in the newspapers?” 

“Ay, ay, just the same. It was he relieved Cuddieburn, 
and defended Chingalore, and defeated the great Mahratta 
chief, Ram Jolli Bundleman — I was with him in most of his 
campaigns.” 

25 “Lord safe us,” said the landlady, “I must go see what he 
would have for supper — that I should set him down here !” 

“Oh, he likes that all the better, mother ; — you never saw 
a plainer creature in your life than our old Colonel ; and yet 
he has a spice of the devil in him too.” 


CHAPTER XII 


Reputation? that’s man’s idol® 

Set up against God, the Maker of all laws. 

Who hath commanded us we should not kill 
And yet we say we must, for Reputation ! 

What honest man can either fear his own, 

Or else will hurt another’s reputation ? 

Fear to do base unworthy things is valor ; 

If they be done to us, to suffer them 
Is valor too. 

Ben Jonson. 

The Colonel was walking pensively up and down the parlor 
when the officious landlady re-entered to take his commands. 
Having given them in the manner he thought would be most 
acceptable “for the good of the house,” he begged to detain 
her a moment. 

“I think,” he said, “madam, if I understood the good 
people right, Mr. Bertram lost his son in his fifth year ? ” 

“Oh ay, sir, there’s nae doubt o’ that, though there are mony 
idle clashes about the way and manner, for it’s an auld story 
now, and everybody tells it, as we were doing, their ain way 
by the ingleside. But lost the bairn was in his fifth year, 
as your honor says, Colonel; and the news being rashly 
tell’d to the leddy, then great with child, cost her her life that 
samyn night — and the Laird never throve after that day, but 
was just careless of everything — though, when his daughter 
Miss Lucy grew up, she tried to keep order within doors — 

83 


84 


GUY MANNERING 


but what could she do, poor thing ? — so now they’re out of 
house and hauld.” 

“Can you recollect, madam, about what time of the year 
the child was lost?” The landlady, after a pause, and some 
S recollection, answered, “she was positive it was- about this 
season” : and added some local recollections that fixed the 
date in her memory, as occurring about the beginning of 
November, 17 — . 

The stranger took two or three turns round the room in 
io silence, but signed to Mrs. Mac-Candlish not to leave it. 

“Did I rightly apprehend,” he said, “that the estate of 
Ellangowan is in the market?” 

“In the market? — it will be sell’d the morn to the highest 
bidder — that’s no the morn, Lord help me ! wdiich is the 
1 5 Sabbath, but on Monday, the first free day ; and the furni- 
ture and stocking is to be roupit at the same time on the 
ground — it’s the opinion of the haill country, that the sale 
has been shamefully forced on at this time, when there’s sae 
little money stirring in Scotland wi’ this weary American 
20 war,° that somebody may get the land a bargain — Deil be 
in them, that I should say sae ! ” — the good lady’s wrath 
rising at the supposed injustice. 

“And where will the sale take place?” 

“On the premises, as the advertisement says — that’s at 
25 the house of Ellangowan, your honor, as I understand it.” 

“And who exhibits the title-deeds, rent-roll, and plan?” 

“A very decent man, sir; the Sheriff-substitute of the 
county, who has authority from the Court of Session. He’s 
in the town just now, if your honor would like to see him ; 
30 and he can tell you mair about the loss of the bairn than ony- 
body, for the Sheriff-depute (that’s his principal, like) took 
much pains to come at the truth o’ that matter, as I have 
heard.” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


85 


“And this gentleman’s name is ” 

“Mac-Morlan, sir, — he’s a man o’ character, and weel 
spoken o’.” 

“Send my compliments — Colonel Mannering’s compli- 
ments to him, and I would be glad he would do me the pleasure 5 
of supping with me, and bring these papers with him — and 
I beg, good madam, you will say nothing of this to any one 
else.” 

“Me, sir? ne’er a word shall I say — I wish your honor 
(a curtsey), or ony honorable gentleman that’s fought for io 
his country (another curtsey), had the land, since the auld 
family maun quit (a sigh), rather than that wily scoundrel, 
Glossin, that’s risen on the ruin of the best friend he ever 
had — and now I think on’t, I’ll slip on my hood and pattens, 
and gang to Mr. Mac-Morlan mysell — he’s at hame e’en 15 
now — it’s hardly a step.” 

“Do so, my good landlady, and many thanks — and bid 
my servant step here with my portfolio in the meantime.” 

In a minute or two, Colonel Mannering was quietly seated 
with his writing materials before him. We have the privilege 20 
of looking over his shoulder as he writes, and we willingly 
communicate its substance to our readers. The letter was 
addressed to Arthur Mervyn, Esq., of Mervyn Hall, Llan- 
braithwaite, Westmoreland. It contained some account of 
the writer’s previous journey since parting with him, and then 25 
proceeded as follows : 

“And now, why will you still upbraid me with my melan- 
choly, Mervyn ? — Do you think, after the lapse of twenty- 
five years, battles, wounds, imprisonment, misfortunes of 
every description, I can be still the same lively, unbroken Guy 3° 
Mannering, who climbed Skiddaw 0 with you, or shot grouse 
upon Crossfell ? That you, who have remained in the bosom 
of domestic happiness, experience little change, that your step 


86 


GUY M ANNE RING 


is as light, and your fancy as full of sunshine, is a blessed 
effect of health and temperament, co-operating with content 
and a smooth current down the course of life. But my career 
has been one of difficulties, and doubts, and errors. From 
5 my infancy I have been the sport of accident, and though the 
wind has often borne me into harbor, it has seldom been 
into that which the pilot destined. Let me recall to you — 
but the task must be brief — the odd and wayward fates of 
my youth, and the misfortunes of my manhood, 
io “The former, you will say, had nothing very appalling. 
All was not for the best ; but all was tolerable. My father, 
the eldest son of an ancient but reduced family, left me with 
little, save the name of the head of the house, to the pro- 
tection of his more fortunate brothers. They were so fond of 
15 me that they almost quarrelled about me. My uncle, the 
bishop, would have had me in orders , 0 and offered me a living 

— my uncle, the merchant, would have put me into a count- 
ing-house , 0 and proposed to give me a share in the thriving 
concern of Mannering and Marshall, in Lombard Street 0 — 

20 So, between these two stools, or rather these two soft, easy, 
well-stuffed chairs of divinity and commerce, my unfortunate 
person slipped down, and pitched upon a dragoon saddle. 
Again, the bishop wished me to marry the niece and heiress 
of the Dean of Lincoln; and my uncle, the alderman, pro- 
25 posed to me the only daughter of old Sloethorn, the great 
wine merchant, rich enough to play at span-counters with 
moidores, and make thread-papers of bank notes — and 
somehow I slipped my neck out of both nooses, and married 

— poor — poor Sophia Well wood. 

30 “You will say, my military career in India, when I fol- 
lowed my regiment there, should have given me some satis- 
faction; and so it assuredly has. You will remind me also, 
that if I disappointed the hopes of my guardians, I did not 


GUY M ANNE RING 


87 


incur their displeasure — that the bishop, at his death, be- 
queathed me his blessing, his manuscript sermons, and a 
curious portfolio, containing the heads of eminent divines of 
the Church of England ; and that my uncle, Sir Paul Manner- 
ing, left me sole heir and executor to his large fortune. Yet s 
this availeth me nothing — I told you I had that upon my 
mind which I should carry to my grave with me, a perpetual 
aloes in the draught of existence. I will tell you the cause 
more in detail than I had the heart to do while under your 
hospitable roof. You will often hear it mentioned, and per- io 
haps with different and unfounded circumstances. I will, 
therefore, speak it out ; and then let the event itself, and the 
sentiments of melancholy with which it has impressed me, 
never again be subject of discussion between us. 

“Sophia, as you well know, followed me to India. She is 
was as innocent as gay ; but, unfortunately for us both, as 
gay as innocent. My own manners were partly formed by 
studies I had forsaken, and habits of seclusion, not quite 
consistent with my situation as commandant of a regiment in 
a country, where universal hospitality is offered and expected 20 
by every settler claiming the rank of a gentleman. In a 
moment of peculiar pressure (you know how hard we were 
sometimes run to obtain white faces to countenance our line- 
of-battle), a young man, named Brown, joined our regiment 
as a volunteer, and finding the military duty more to his fancy, 25 
than commerce, in which he had been engaged, remained with 
us as a cadet. Let me do my unhappy victim justice — he 
behaved with such gallantry on every occasion that offered, 
that the first vacant commission was considered as his due. 

I was absent for some weeks upon a distant expedition ; when 30 
I returned, I found this young fellow established quite as the 
friend of the house, and habitual attendant of my wife and 
daughter. It was an arrangement which displeased me in 


88 


GUY M ANNE RING 


many particulars, though no objection could be made to his 
manners or character — Yet I might have been reconciled to 
his familiarity in my family, but for the suggestions of an- 
other. If you read over — what I never dare open — the 
5 play of Othello, you will have some idea of what followed — 
I mean of my motives — my actions, thank God ! were less 
reprehensible. There was another cadet ambitious of the 
vacant situation. He called my attention to what he led me 
to term coquetry between my wife and this young man. 
io Sophia was virtuous, but proud of her virtue ; and, irritated 
by my jealousy, she was so imprudent as to press and en- 
courage an intimacy which she saw I disapproved and regarded 
with suspicion. Between Brown and me there existed a sort 
of internal dislike. He made an effort or two to overcome 
is my prejudice; but, prepossessed as I was, I placed them to 
a wrong motive. Feeling himself repulsed, and with scorn, 
he desisted ; and as he was without family and friends, he 
was naturally more watchful of the deportment of one who 
had both. 

20 “My wife, though no longer young, was still eminently 
handsome, and — let me say thus far in my own justification 
— she was fond of being thought so — I am repeating what 
I said before — In a word, of her virtue I never entertained 
a doubt; but, pushed by the artful suggestions of Archer, 
2.5 I thought she cared little for my peace of mind, and that the 
young fellow, Brown, paid his attentions in my despite, and 
in defiance of me. He perhaps considered me, on his part, 
as an oppressive aristocratic man, who made my rank in 
society, and in the army, the means of galling those whom 
30 circumstances placed beneath me. And if he discovered 
my silly jealousy, he probably considered the fretting me in 
that sore point of my character, as one means of avenging 
the petty indignities to which I had it in my power to subject 


GUY M ANNE RING 


89 


him. Yet an acute friend of mine gave a more harmless, or 
at least a less offensive, construction to his attentions, which 
he conceived to be meant for my daughter Julia, though 
immediately addressed to propitiate the influence of her 
mother. This could have been no very flattering or pleasing 5 
enterprise on the part of an obscure and nameless young 
man ; but I should not have been offended at this folly, as 
I was at the higher degree of presumption I suspected. 
Offended, however, I was, and in a mortal degree. 

“A very slight spark will kindle a flame where everything 10 
lies open to catch it. I have absolutely forgot the proximate 
cause of quarrel, but it was some trifle which occurred at the 
card-table, which occasioned high words and a challenge. 
We met in the morning beyond the walls and esplanade of 
the fortress which I then commanded, on the frontiers of the 15 
settlement. This was arranged for Brown’s safety, had he 
escaped. I almost wish he had, though at my own expense; 
but he fell by the first fire. We strove to assist him ; but 
some of these Looties, a species of native banditti who w r ere 
always on the watch for prey, poured in upon us. Archer and 20 
I gained our horses with difficulty, and cut our way through 
them after a hard conflict, in the course of which he received 
some desperate wounds. To complete the misfortunes of 
this miserable day, my wife, who suspected the design with 
which I left the fortress, had ordered her palanquin 0 to follow 25 
me, and was alarmed and almost made prisoner by another 
troop of these plunderers. She was quickly released by a 
party of our cavalry ; but I cannot disguise from myself, that 
the incidents of this fatal morning gave a severe shock to 
health already delicate. The confession of Archer, who 30 
thought himself dying, that he had invented some circum- 
stances, and, for his purposes, put the worst construction upon 
others, and the full explanation and exchange of forgiveness 


90 


GUY MANNERING 


with me which this produced, could not check the progress of 
her disorder. She died within about eight months after this 
incident, bequeathing me only the girl, of whom Mrs. 
Mervyn is so good as to undertake the temporary charge. 

5 Julia was also extremely ill ; so much so, that I was induced 
to throw up my command and return to Europe, where her 
native air, time, and the novelty of the scenes around her, have 
contributed to dissipate her dejection, and restore her health. 

“Now that you know my story, you will no longer ask 
io me the reason of my melancholy, but permit me to brood 
upon it as I may. There is, surely, in the above narrative, 
enought to embitter, though not to poison, the chalice, which 
the fortune and fame you so often mention had prepared to 
regale my years of retirement. 

is “I could add circumstances which our old tutor would 
have quoted as instances of day fatality, — you would laugh 
were I to mention such particulars, especially as you know 
I put no faith in them. Yet, since I have come to the very 
house from which I now write, I have learned a singular 
20 coincidence, which, if I find it truly established by tolerable 
evidence, will serve us hereafter for subject of curious dis- 
cussion. But I will spare you at present, as I expect a 
person to speak about a purchase of property now open in 
this part of the country. It is a place to which I have a 
25 foolish partiality, and I hope my purchasing may be con- 
venient to those who are parting with it, as there is a plan 
for buying it under the value. My respectful compliments 
to Mrs. Mervyn, and I will trust you, though you boast to 
be so lively a young gentleman, to kiss Julia for me. — Adieu, 
30 dear Mervyn. — Thine ever, Guy Mannering.” 

Mr. Mac-Morlan now entered the room. The well-known 
character of Colonel Mannering at once disposed this gentle- 


GUY M ANNE RING 


91 


man, who was a man of intelligence and probity, to be open 
and confidential. He explained the advantages and disad- 
vantages of the property. “It was settled,” he said, “the 
greater part of it at least, upon heirs-male, and the pur- 
chaser would have the privilege of retaining in his hands a 5 
large proportion of the price, in case of the re-appearance, 
within a certain limited term, of the child who had dis- 
appeared.” 

“To what purpose, then, force forward a sale?” said 
Mannering. 10 

Mac-Morlan smiled. “Ostensibly,” he answered, “to 
substitute the interest of money, instead of the ill-paid and 
precarious rents of an unimproved estate ; but chiefly, it was 
believed, to suit the wishes and views of a certain intended 
purchaser, who had become a principal creditor, and forced 15 
himself into the management of the affairs by means best 
known to himself, and who, it was thought, would find it 
very convenient to purchase the estate without paying down 
the price.” 

Mannering consulted with Mr. Mac-Morlan upon the steps 20 
for thwarting this unprincipled attempt. They then con- 
versed long on the singular disappearance of Harry Bertram 
upon his fifth birthday, verifying thus the random prediction 
of Mannering, of which, however, it will readily be supposed 
he made no boast. Mr. Mac-Morlan was not himself in 25 
office when that incident took place; but he was well ac- 
quainted with all the circumstances, and promised that our 
hero should have them detailed by the Sheriff-depute him- 
self, if, as he proposed, he should become a settler in that 
part of Scotland. With this assurance they parted, well 30 
satisfied with each other, and with the evening’s conference. 

On the Sunday following, Colonel Mannering attended 
the parish church with great decorum. None of the Elian- 


92 


GUY M ANNE RING 


gowan family were present ; and it was understood that the 
old Laird was rather worse than better. Jock Jabos, once 
more despatched for him, returned once more without his 
errand; but, on the following day, Miss Bertram hoped he 
5 might be removed. 


CHAPTER XIII 


They told me, by the sentence of the law,° 

They had commission to seize all thy fortune. — 

Here stood a ruffian with a horrid face, 

Lording it o’er a pile of massy plate, 

Tumbled into a heap for public sale ; — 

There was another, making villainous jests 
At thy undoing ; but had ta’en possession 
Of all thy ancient most domestic ornaments. 

Otway. 

Early next morning, Mannering mounted his horse, and, 
accompanied by his servant, took the road to Ellangowan. 
He had no need to inquire the way. A sale in the country 
was a place of public resort and amusement, and people of 
various descriptions streamed to it from all quarters. 5 

After a pleasant ride of about an hour, the old towers of 
the ruin presented themselves in the landscape. The 
thoughts, with what different feelings he had lost sight of 
them so many years before, thronged upon the mind of the 
traveller. The landscape was the same; but how changed io 
the feelings, hopes, and views of the spectator ! Then, life 
and love were new, and all the prospect was gilded by their 
rays. And now, disappointed in affection, sated with fame, 
and what the world calls success, his mind goaded by bitter 
and repentant recollection, his best hope was to find a retire- is 
ment in which he might nurse the melancholy that was to 
accompany him to his grave. 

These reflections brought Mannering to the door of the 

93 


94 


GUY MANNERING 


house, which was that day open to all He entered among 
others, who traversed the apartments, some to select articles 
for purchase, others to gratify their curiosity. There is some- 
thing melancholy in such a scene, even under the most favor- 
5 able circumstances. The confused state of the furniture, 
displaced for the convenience of being easily viewed and 
carried off by the purchasers, is disagreeable to the eye. 
These articles which, properly and decently arranged, look 
creditable and handsome, have then a paltry and wretched 
i o appearance; and the apartments, stripped of all that render 
them commodious and comfortable, have an aspect of ruin 
and dilapidation. 

It was some time before Colonel Mannering could find any 
one disposed to answer his reiterated questions concerning 
is Ellangowan himself. At length, an old maid-servant, who 
held her apron to her eyes as she spoke, told him, “the Laird 
was something better, and they hoped he Avould be able to 
leave the house that day. Miss Lucy expected the chaise 
every moment, and, as the day was fine for the time o’ year, 
20 they had carried him in his easy chair up to the green before 
the auld castle, to be out of the way of this unco spectacle.” 
Hither Colonel Mannering went in quest of him, and soon 
came in sight of the little group, which consisted of four 
persons. The ascent was steep, so that he had time to re- 
25 connoitre them as he advanced, and to consider in what mode 
he should make his address. 

Mr. Bertram, paralytic, and almost incapable of moving, 
occupied his easy chair, attired in his nightcap, and a loose 
camlet coat, his feet wrapped in blankets. Behind him, with 
30 his hands crossed on the cane upon which he rested, stood 
Dominie Sampson, whom Mannering recognized at once. 
Time had made no change upon him, unless that his black 
coat seemed more brown, and his gaunt cheeks more lank, 


GUY MANNERING 


95 


than when Mannering last saw him. On one side of the old 
man was a sylph-like form — a young woman of about seven- 
teen, whom the Colonel accounted to be his daughter. She 
was looking, from time to time, anxiously towards the avenue, 
as if expecting the post-chaise ; and between whiles busied 5 
herself in adjusting the blankets, so as to protect her father 
from the cold, and in answering inquiries, which he seemed to 
make with a captious and querulous manner. She did not 
trust herself to look towards the Place, although the hum of 
the assembled crowd must have drawn her attention in that 10 
direction. The fourth person of the group was a handsome 
and genteel young man, who seemed to share Miss Bertram’s 
anxiety, and her solicitude to soothe and accommodate her 
parent. 

This young man was the first to observe Colonel 15 
Mannering, and immediately stepped forward to meet him, 
as if politely to prevent his drawing nearer to the distressed 
group. Mannering instantly paused and explained. “He 
was,” he said, “a stranger, to whom Mr. Bertram had formerly 
shown kindness and hospitality; he would not have intruded 20 
himself upon him at a period of distress, did it not seem to be 
in some degree a moment also of desertion ; he wished merely 
to offer such services as might be in his power to Mr. Bertram 
and the young lady.” 

He then paused at a little distance from the chair. His old 25 
acquaintance gazed at him with lack-lustre eye, that intimated 
no tokens of recognition — the Dominie seemed too deeply 
sunk in distress even to observe his presence. The young 
man spoke aside with Miss Bertram, who advanced timidly, 
and thanked Colonel Mannering for his goodness ; “but,” she 30 
said, the tears gushing fast into her eyes — “her father, she 
feared, was not so much himself as to be able to remember 
him.” 


96 


GUY MANN BRING 


She then retreated towards the chair, accompanied by the 
Colonel. — “Father,” she said, “this is Mr. Mannering, an 
old friend, come to inquire after you.” 

“He’s very heartily welcome,” said the old man, raising 
5 himself in his chair, and attempting a gesture of courtesy, 
while a gleam of hospitable satisfaction seemed to pass over 
his faded features; “but, Lucy, my dear, let us go down to 
the house, you should not keep the gentleman here in the 
cold. — Dominie, take the key of the wine-cooler. Mr. 

io a a the gentleman will surely take something after 

his ride.” 

Mannering was unspeakably affected by the contrast which 
his recollection made between this reception and that with 
which he had been greeted by the same individual when they 
15 last met. He could not restrain his tears, and his evident 
emotion at once attained him the confidence of the friendless 
young lady. 

“Alas!” she said, “this is distressing even to a stranger: 
but it may be better for my poor father to be in this way, 
20 than if he knew and could feel all.” 

A servant in livery now came up the path, and spoke in an 
undertone to the young gentleman — “Mr. Charles, my 
lady’s wanting you yonder sadly, to bid for her for the black 
ebony cabinet; and Lady Jean Devorgoil is wi’ her an’ a’ — 
25 ye maun come away directly.” 

“Tell them ye could not find me, Tom ; or, stay, — say I 
am looking at the horses.” 

“No, no, no,” said Lucy Bertram earnestly; “if you 
would not add to the misery of this miserable moment, go 
30 to the company directly. — This gentleman, I am sure, will 
see us to the carriage.” 

“Unquestionably, madam,” said Mannering, “your young 
friend may rely on my attention.” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


97 


“Farewell, then,” said young Hazlewood, and whispered 
a word in her ear — then ran down the steep hastily, as if not 
trusting his resolution at a slower pace. 

The sound of voices was now heard from the ruins. The 
reader may remember there was a communication between 5 
the castle and the beach, up which the speakers had ascended. 

“Yes, there’s plenty of shells and sea-ware for manure, as 
you observe — and if one inclined to build a new house, which 
might indeed be necessary, there’s a great deal of good hewn 
stone about this old dungeon for the devil here ” 10 

“Good God!” said Miss Bertram hastily to Sampson, 
“’tis that wretch Glossin’s voice ! — if my father sees him, it 
will kill him outright!” 

Sampson wheeled perpendicularly round, and moved with 
long strides to confront the attorney, as he issued from be- 15 
neath the portal arch of the ruin. “Avoid ye!” he said — 
“Avoid ye ! wouldst thou kill and take possession?” 

“Come, come, Master Dominie Sampson,” answered 
Glossin insolently, “if ye cannot preach in the pulpit, we’ll 
have no preaching here. We go by the law, my good friend ; 20 
we leave the gospel to you.” . 

The very mention of this man’s name had been of late 
a subject of the most violent irritation to the unfortunate 
patient. The sound of his voice now produced an instan- 
taneous effect. Mr. Bertram started up without assistance, 25 
and turned round towards him ; the ghastliness of his features 
forming a strange contrast with the violence of his exclama- 
tions. — “Out of my sight, ye viper ! — ye frozen viper, that I 
warmed till ye stung me ! — Art thou not afraid that the walls 
of my father’s dwelling should fall and crush thee limb and 30 
bone ? — Are ye not afraid the very lintels 0 of the door of 
Ellangowan castle should break open and swallow you up ? 

Were ye not friendless, — houseless, — penniless, — when 

H 


98 


GUY MANNERING 


I took ye by the hand — and are ye not expelling me — me, 
and that innocent girl — friendless, houseless, and penniless, 
from the house that has sheltered us and ours for a thousand 
years ? ” 

S Had Glossin been alone, he would probably have slunk 
off ; but the consciousness that a stranger was present, besides 
the person who came with him (a sort of land-surveyor), 
determined him to resort to impudence. The task, however, 
was almost too hard, even for his effrontery — - “Sir — Sir — 
io Mr. Bertram — Sir, you should not blame me, but your own 
imprudence, sir ” 

The indignation of Mannering was mounting very high. 
“Sir,” he said to Glossin, “without entering into the merits 
of this controversy, I must inform you, that you have chosen 
is a very improper place, time, and presence for it. And you 
will oblige me by withdrawing without more words.” 

Glossin, being a tall, strong, muscular man, was not un- 
willing rather to turn upon a stranger whom he hoped to 
bully, than maintain his wretched cause against his injured 
20 patron : — “I do not know who you are, sir,” he said, “and I 
shall permit no man to use such d — d freedom with me.” 

Mannering was naturally hot-tempered — his eyes flashed a 
dark light — he compressed his nether lip so closely that the 
blood sprung, and approaching Glossin — “Look you, sir,” he 
25 said, “that you do not know me is of little consequence. I 
know you; and, if you do not instantly descend that bank, 
without uttering a single syllable, by the Heaven that is above 
us, you shall make but one step from the top to the bottom ! ” 

The commanding tone of rightful anger silenced at once 
30 the ferocity of the bully. He hesitated, turned on his heel, 
and, muttering something between his teeth about unwilling- 
ness to alarm the lady, relieved them of his hateful company. 

Mrs. Mac-Candlish’s postilion, who had come up in time 


GUY M ANNE RING 


99 


to hear what passed, said aloud, “If he had stuck by the way, 

I would have lent him a heezie, the dirty scoundrel, as will- 
ingly as ever I pitched a boddle.” 

He then stepped forward to announce that his horses were 
in readiness for the invalid and his daughter. 5 

But they were no longer necessary. The debilitated frame 
of Mr. Bertram was exhausted by this last effort of indignant 
anger, and when he sunk again upon his chair, he expired 
almost without a struggle or groan. So little alteration did 
the extinction of the vital spark make upon his external io 
appearance, that the screams of his daughter, when she saw 
his eye fix and felt his pulse stop, first announced his death 
to the spectators. 


CHAPTER XIV 


The bell strikes one. — We take no note of time® 

But from its loss. To give it then a tongue 
Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, 

I feel the solemn sound. 

Young. 

The crowd of assembled gazers and idlers at Ellangowan 
had followed the views of amusement, or what they called 
business, which brought them there, with little regard to the 
feelings of those who were suffering upon that occasion. 

S Few, indeed, knew anything of the family. The father, 
betwixt seclusion, misfortune, and imbecility, had drifted, 
as it were, for many years out of the notice of his contem- 
poraries — the daughter had never been known to them. 
But when the general murmur announced that the unfor- 
IO tunate Mr. Bertram had broken his heart in the effort to 
leave the mansion of his forefathers, there poured forth a 
torrent of sympathy, like the waters from the rock when 
stricken by the wand of the prophet. The ancient descent 
and unblemished integrity of the family were respectfully 
i S remembered ; above all, the sacred veneration due to mis- 
fortune, which in Scotland seldom demands its tribute in 
vain, then claimed and received it. 

Mr. Mac-Morlan hastily announced, that he would suspend 
all further proceedings in the sale of the estate and other 
20 property, and relinquish the possession of the premises to the 
young lady, until she could consult with her friends, and 
provide for the burial of her father. 

100 


GUY M ANNE RING 


101 


Glossin had cowered for a few minutes under the general 
expression of sympathy, till, hardened by observing that no 
appearance of popular indignation was directed his way, he 
had the audacity to require that the sale should proceed. 

“I will take it upon my own authority to adjourn it,” said 5 
the Sheriff-substitute, “and will be responsible for the con- 
sequences. I will also give due notice when it is again to go 
forward. It is for the benefit of all concerned that the lands 
should bring the highest price the state of the market will 
admit, and this is surely no time to expect it — I will take 10 
the responsibility upon myself.” 

Glossin left the room, and the house too, with secrecy and 
despatch ; and it was probably well for him he did so, since 
our friend Jock Jabos was already haranguing a numerous 
tribe of bare-legged boys on the propriety of pelting him off 15 
the estate. 

Some of the rooms were hastily put in order for the recep- 
tion of the young lady, and of her father’s dead body. Man- 
nering now found his further interference would be unneces- 
sary, and might be misconstrued. He observed, too, that 20 
several families connected with that of Ellangowan, and who 
indeed derived their principal claim of gentility from the 
alliance, were now disposed to pay to their trees of genealogy 
a tribute, which the adversity of their supposed relatives had 
been inadequate to call forth ; and that the honor of super- 25 
intending the funeral rites of the dead Godfrey Bertram (as in 
the memorable case of Homer’s birthplace) 0 was likely to be 
debated by seven gentlemen of rank and fortune, none of 
whom had offered him an asylum while living. He therefore 
resolved, as his presence was altogether useless, to make a 30 
short tour of a fortnight, at the end of which period the 
adjourned sale of the estate of Ellangowan was to proceed. 

But before he departed, he solicited an interview with the 


102 


GUY MANNERING 


Dominie. The poor man appeared, on being informed a 
gentleman wanted to speak to him, with some expression of 
surprise in his gaunt features, to which recent sorrow had 
given an expression yet more grisly. He made two or three 
5 profound reverences to Mannering, and then, standing erect, 
patiently waited an explanation of his commands. 

“You are probably at a loss to guess, Mr. Sampson,” said 
Mannering, “what a stranger may have to say to you?” 

“Unless it were to request, that I would undertake to train 
io up some youth in polite letters, and humane learning — but I 
cannot — I cannot — I have yet a task to perform.” 

“No, Mr. Sampson, my wishes are not so ambitious. I 
have no son, and my only daughter, I presume, you would 
not consider as a fit pupil.” 

15 “Of a surety, no,” replied the simple-minded Sampson. 
“Nathless, it was I who did educate Miss Lucy in all useful 
learning, — albeit it was the housekeeper who did teach her 
those unprofitable exercises of hemming and shaping.” 

“Well, sir,” replied Mannering, “it is of Miss Lucy I 
20 meant to speak — you have, I presume, no recollection of 
me?” 

Sampson, always sufficiently absent in mind, neither re- 
membered the astrologer of past years, nor even the stranger 
who had taken his patron’s part against Glossin, so much had 
25 his friend’s sudden death embroiled his ideas. 

“Well, that does not signify,” pursued the Colonel ; “I am 
an old acquaintance of the late Mr. Bertram, able and willing 
to assist his daughter in her present circumstances. Besides, 
I have thoughts of making this purchase, and I should wish 
30 things kept in order about the place ; will you have the good- 
ness to apply this small sum in the usual family expenses?” 
— He put into the Dominie’s hand a purse containing some 
gold. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


103 


“ Pro-di-gi-ous !” exclaimed Dominie Sampson. “But if 
your honor would tarry ” 

“Impossible, sir — impossible,” said Mannering, making 
his escape from him. 

“Pro-di-gi-ous!” again exclaimed Sampson, following to 5 
the head of the stairs, still holding out the purse. “But as 
touching this coined money ” 

Mannering escaped downstairs as fast as possible. 

“Pro-di-gi-ous!” exclaimed Dominie Sampson, yet the 
third time, now standing at the front door. “But as touch- 10 
ing this specie ” 

But Mannering was now on horseback, and out of hearing. 
The Dominie, who had never, either in his own right, or as 
trustee for another, been possessed of a quarter part of this 
sum, though it was not above twenty guineas, “took counsel,” 15 
as he expressed himself, “how he should demean himself 
with respect unto the fine gold” thus left in his charge. 
Fortunately he found a disinterested adviser in Mac-Morlan, 
who pointed out the most proper means of disposing of it for 
contributing to Miss Bertram’s convenience, being no doubt 20 
the purpose to which it was destined by the bestower. 

Many of the neighboring gentry were now sincerely eager 
in pressing offers of hospitality and kindness upon Miss 
Bertram. But she felt a natural reluctance to enter any 
family, for the first time, as an object rather of benevolence 25 
than hospitality, and determined to wait the opinion and 
advice of her father’s nearest female relation, Mrs. Margaret 
Bertram of Singleside, an old unmarried lady, to whom she 
wrote an account of her present distressful situation. 

The funeral of the late Mr. Bertram was performed with 30 
decent privacy, and the unfortunate young lady was now to 
consider herself as but the temporary tenant of the house 
in which she had been born, and where her patience and 


104 


GUY MANNERING 


soothing attentions had so long “ rocked the cradle of declining 
age.” Her communication with Mr. Mac-Morlan encouraged 
her to hope that she would not be suddenly or unkindly 
deprived of this asylum; but fortune had ordered otherwise. 

5 For two days before the appointed day for the sale of the 
lands and estate of Ellangowan, Mac-Morlan daily expected 
the appearance of Colonel Mannering, or at least a letter 
containing powers to act for him. But none such arrived. 
Mr. Mac-Morlan waked early in the morning, — walked over 
io to the Post-office, — there were no letters for him. lie 
endeavored to persuade himself that he should see Colonel 
Mannering to breakfast, and ordered his wife to place her 
best china, and prepare herself accordingly. But the prep- 
arations were in vain. “Could I have foreseen this,” he 
is said, “I would have travelled Scotland over, but I would 
have found some one to bid against Glossin.” — Alas! such 
reflections were all too late. The appointed hour arrived ; 
and the parties met in the Masons’ Lodge at Kippletringan, 
being the place fixed for the adjourned sale. Mac-Morlan 
20 spent as much time in preliminaries as decency would permit, 
and read over the articles of sale as slowly as if he had been 
reading his own death-warrant. He turned his eye every 
time the door of the room opened, with hopes which grew 
fainter and fainter. He listened to every noise in the street 
2 5 of the village, and endeavored to distinguish in it the sound 
of hoofs or wheels. It was all in vain. A bright idea then 
occurred, that Colonel Mannering might have employed some 
other person in the transaction — he would not have wasted 
a moment’s thought upon the want of confidence in himself, 
30 which such a manoeuvre would have evinced. But this hope 
also was groundless. After a solemn pause, Mr . , Glossin 
offered the upset price for the lands and barony of Ellan- 
gowan. No reply was made, and no competitor appeared; 


GUY M ANNE RING 


105 


so, after a lapse of the usual interval by the running of a 
sand-glass, upon the intended purchaser entering the proper 
sureties, Mr. Mac-Morlan was obliged, in technical terms, to 
“find and declare the sale lawfully completed, and to prefer 
the said Gilbert Glossin as the purchaser of the said lands 5 
and estate.” The honest writer refused to partake of a 
splendid entertainment with which Gilbert Glossin, Esquire, 
now of Ellangowan, treated the rest of the company, and 
returned home in huge bitterness of spirit, which he vented 
in complaints against the fickleness and caprice of these 10 
Indian nabobs, 0 who never knew what they would be at for 
ten days together. Fortune generously determined to take 
the blame upon herself, and cut off even this vent of Mac- 
Morlan’s resentment. 

An express arrived about six o’clock at night, “very 15 
particularly drunk,” the maid-servant said, with a packet 
from Colonel Mannering, dated four days back, at a town 
about a hundred miles’ distance from Kippletringan, con- 
taining full powers to Mr. Mac-Morlan, or any one whom he 
might employ, to make the intended purchase, and stating, 20 
that sbme family business of consequence called the Colonel 
himself to Westmoreland, where a letter would find him, 
addressed to the care of Arthur Mervyn, Esq., of Mervyn 
Hall. 

Mac-Morlan, in the transports of his wrath, flung the 25 
power of attorney at the head of the innocent maid-servant, 
and was only forcibly withheld from horsewhipping the 
rascally messenger, by whose sloth and drunkenness the 
disappointment had taken place. 


CHAPTER XV 


My gold is gone, my money is spent, 0 
My land now take it unto thee. 

Give me thy gold, good John o’ Scales, 

And thine for aye my land shall be. 

Then John he did him to record draw. 

And John he caste him a gods-pennie ; ° 

But for every pounde that John agreed, 

The land, I wis, was well worth three. 

Heir of Linne. 

The Galwegian John o’ the Scales was a more clever fellow 
than his prototype. He contrived to make himself heir of 
Linne without the disagreeable ceremony of “telling down 
the good red gold.” Miss Bertram no sooner heard this 
5 painful, and of late unexpected intelligence, than she pro- 
ceeded in the preparations she had already made for leaving 
the mansion-house immediately. Mr. Mac-Morlan assisted 
her in these arrangements, and pressed upon her so kindly 
the hospitality and protection of his roof, until she should 
i o receive an answer from her cousin, or be enabled to adopt 
some settled plan of life, that she felt there would be un- 
kindness in refusing an invitation urged with such earnest- 
ness. Mrs. Mac-Morlan was a ladylike person, and well 
qualified by birth and manners to receive the visit, and to 
15 make her house agreeable to Miss Bertram. A home, 
therefore, and an hospitable reception, were secured to her, 
and she went on, with better heart, to pay the wages and 
receive the adieus of the few domestics of her father’s family. 

106 


GUY MANN BRING 


107 


All received their due, and even a trifle more, and with 
thanks and good wishes, to which some added tears, took 
farewell of their young mistress. There remained in the 
parlor only Mr. Mac-Morlan, who came to attend his guest 
to his house, Dominie Sampson and Miss Bertram. “And 5 
now,” said the poor girl, “I must bid farewell to one of my 
oldest and kindest friends. — God bless you, Mr. Sampson, 
and requite to you all the kindness of your instructions to 
your poor pupil, and your friendship to him that is gone — I 
hope I shall often hear from you.” She slid into his hand a 10 
paper containing some pieces of gold, and rose, as if jto leave 
the room. 

Dominie Sampson also rose; but it was to stand aghast 
with utter astonishment. The idea of parting from Miss 
Lucy, go where she might, had never once occurred to the 15 
simplicity of his understanding. — He laid the money on the 
table. “It is certainly inadequate,” said Mac-Morlan, mis- 
taking his meaning, “but the circumstances ” 

Mr. Sampson waved his hand impatiently. — “It is not the 
lucre — it is not the lucre — but that I, that have ate of her 20 
father’s loaf, and drank of his cup, for twenty years and 
more — to think that I am going to leave her — and to leave 
her in distress and dolor — No, Miss Lucy, you need never 
think it ! You would not consent to put forth your father’s 
poor dog, and would you use me waur than a messan? No, 25 
Miss Lucy Bertram, while I live I will not separate from you. 

I ’ll be no burden — I have thought how to prevent that. But, 
as Ruth said unto Naomi, ‘Entreat me not to leave thee, nor 
to depart from thee ; for whither thou goest I will go, and 
where thou dwellest I will dwell ; thy people shall be my 30 
people, and thy God shall be my God. Where thou diest will 
I die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, 
and more also, if aught but death do part thee and me.’” 


108 


GUY M ANNE RING 


During this speech, the longest ever Dominie Sampson was 
known to utter, the affectionate creature’s eyes streamed with 
tears, and neither Lucy nor Mae-Morlan could refrain from 
sympathizing with this unexpected burst of feeling and attach- 
5 ment. “Mr. Sampson,” said Mac-Morlan, after having had 
recourse to his snuff-box and handkerchief alternately, “my 
house is large enough, and if you will accept of a bed there, 
while Miss Bertram honors us with her residence, I shall 
think myself very happy, and my roof much favored by 
io receiving a man of your worth and fidelity.” And then, with 
a delicacy which was meant to remove any objection on Miss 
Bertram’s part to bringing with her this unexpected satellite, 
he added, “My business requires my frequently having 
occasion for a better accountant than any of my present 
is clerks, and I should be glad to have recourse to your assist- 
ance in that way now and then.” 

“Of a surety, of a surety,” said Sampson eagerly; “I 
understand book-keeping by double entry and the Italian 
method.” 

20 Our postilion had thrust himself into the room to announce 
his chaise and horses; he tarried, unobserved, during this 
extraordinary scene, and assured Mrs. Mac-Candlish it was 
the most moving thing he ever saw; “the death of the grey 
mare, puir hizzie, was naething till’t.” This trifling circum- 
2 5 stance afterwards had consequences of greater moment to the 
Dominie. 

And here we must leave Kippletringan to look after our 
hero, lest our readers should fear they are to lose sight of 
him for another quarter of a century. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Our Polly is a sad slut, nor heeds what we have taught her ;° 

I wonder why any man alive will ever rear a daughter ; 

For when she’s drest with care and cost, all tempting, fine, 
and gay, 

As men should serve a cucumber, she flings herself away. 

Beggar's Opera. 

After the death of Mr. Bertram, Mannering had set out 
upon a short tour, proposing to return to the neighborhood of 
Ellangowan before the sale of that property should take place. 
He went, accordingly, to Edinburgh and elsewhere, and it was 
in his return towards the southwestern district of Scotland, 5 
in which our scene lies, that, at a post-town about a hundred 
miles from Kippletringan, to which he had requested his 
friend, Mr. Mervyn, to address his letters, he received one 
from that gentleman, which contained rather unpleasing in- 
telligence. We have assumed already the privilege of acting 10 
a secretis to this gentleman, and therefore shall present the 
reader with an extract from this epistle. 

“I beg your pardon, my dearest friend, for the pain I 
have given you, in forcing you to open wounds so festering 
as those your letter referred to. I have always heard, though 1 5 
erroneously perhaps, that the attentions of Mr. Brown were 
intended for Miss Mannering. But, however that were, it 
could not be supposed that in your situation his boldness 
should escape notice and chastisement. Wise men say, that 
we resign to civil society our natural rights of self-defence, 20 

109 


110 


GUY MANNEKING 


only on condition that the ordinances of law should protect 
us. Where the price cannot be paid, the resignation becomes 
void. For instance, no one supposes that I am not entitled 
to defend my purse and person against a highwayman, as 
5 much as if I were a wild Indian, who owns neither law nor 
magistracy. The question of resistance, or submission, must 
be determined by my means and situation. But, if, armed 
and equal in force, I submit to injustice and violence from 
any man, high or low, I presume it will hardly be attributed 
io to religious or moral feeling in me, or in any one but a Quaker. 
An aggression on my honor seems to me much the same. 
The insult, however trifling in itself, is one of much deeper 
consequence to all views in life than any wrong which can 
be inflicted by a depredator on the highway, and to redress 
15 the injured party is much less in the power of public juris- 
prudence, or rather it is entirely beyond its reach. 

“I am sorry you have thoughts of settling in Scotland, and 
yet glad that you will still be at no immeasurable distance, 
and that the latitude is all in our favor. To move to West- 
20 moreland 0 from Devonshire might make an East Indian 
shudder ; but to come to us from Galloway 0 or Dumfriesshire, 
is a step, though a short one, nearer the sun. 

“And here, dear Mannering, I wish I could stop, for I 
have incredible pain in telling the rest of my story ; although 
25 I am sure I can warn you against any intentional impro- 
priety on the part of my temporary ward, Julia Mannering. 
But I must still earn my college nickname of Downright 
Dunstable. 

“Your daughter has much of the romantic turn of your 
30 disposition, with a little of that love of admiration which all 
pretty women share less or more. She will besides, appar- 
ently, be your heiress; a trifling circumstance to those who 
view Julia with my eyes, but a prevailing bait to the specious, 


GUY M ANNE RING 


111 


artful, and worthless. You know how I have jested with her 
about her soft melancholy, and lonely walks at morning before 
any one is up, and in the moonlight when all should be gone 
to bed, or set down to cards, which is the same thing. The 
incident which follows may not be beyond the bounds of a 5 
joke, but I had rather the jest upon it came from you than me. 

“Two or three times during the last fortnight, I heard, at 
a late hour in the night, or very early in the morning, a 
flageolet 0 play the little Hindu tune to which your daughter 
is so partial. I thought for some time that some tuneful 10 
domestic, whose taste for music was laid under constraint 
during the day, chose that silent hour to imitate the strains 
which he had caught up by the ear during his attendance 
in the drawing-room. But last night I sat late in my study, 
which is immediately under Miss Mannering’s apartment, and 15 
to my surprise, I not only heard the flageolet distinctly, but 
satisfied myself that it came from the lake under the window. 
Curious to know who serenaded us at that unusual hour, 1 
stole softly to the window of my apartment. But there were 
other watchers than me. You may remember, Miss Manner- 20 
ing preferred that apartment on account of a balcony which 
opened from her window upon the lake. Well, sir, I heard 
the sash of her window thrown up, the shutters opened, and 
her own voice in conversation with some person who answered 
from below. This is not ‘Much ado about nothing’ ; I could 25 
not be mistaken in her voice, and such tones, so soft, so in- 
sinuating — And, to say the truth, the accents from below 
were in passion’s tenderest cadence too — But of the sense 
I can say nothing. I raised the sash of my own window that 
I might hear something more than the mere murmur of this 30 
Spanish rendezvous, but, though I used every precaution, the 
noise alarmed the speakers; down slid the -young lady’s case- 
ment, and the shutters were barred in an instant. The dash 


112 


GUY M ANNE RING 


of a pair of oars in the water announced the retreat of the 
male person of the dialogue. Indeed, I saw his boat, which 
he rowed with great swiftness and dexterity, fly across the 
lake like a twelve-oared barge. Next morning I examined 
5 some of my domestics, as if by accident, and I found the 
gamekeeper, when making his rounds, had twice seen that 
boat beneath the house, with a single person, and had heard 
the flageolet. I did not care to press any further questions, 
for fear of implicating Julia in the opinions of those of whom 
i° they might be asked. Next morning, at breakfast, I dropped 
a casual hint about the serenade of the evening before, and I 
promise you Miss Mannering looked red and pale alternately. 
I immediately gave the circumstance such a turn as might 
lead her to suppose that my observation was merely casual, 
is I have since caused a watch-light to be burnt in my library, 
and have left the shutters open, to deter the approach of our 
nocturnal guest ; and I have stated the severity of approach- 
ing winter, and the rawness of the fogs, as an objection to 
solitary walks. Miss Mannering acquiesced with a passive- 
20 ness which is no part of her character, and which, to tell you 
the plain truth, is a feature about the business which I like 
least of all. Julia has too much of her own dear papa’s 
disposition to be curbed in any of her humors, were there 
not some little lurking consciousness that it may be as prudent 
25 to avoid debate. 

“Now my story is told, and you will judge what you 
ought to do. I have not mentioned the matter to my good 
woman, who, a faithful secretary to her sex’s foibles, would 
certainly remonstrate against your being made acquainted 
30 with these particulars, and might, instead, take it into her 
head to exercise her own eloquence on Miss Mannering; a 
faculty, which, however powerful when directed against me, 
its legitimate object, might, I fear, do more harm than good 


GUY M ANNE RING 


113 


in the case supposed. Perhaps even you yourself will find it 
most prudent to act without remonstrating, or appearing to be 
aware of this little anecdote. Julia is very like a certain 
friend of mine; she has a quick and lively imagination, and 
keen feelings, which are apt to exaggerate both the good and 5 
evil they find in life. She is a charming girl, however, as 
generous and spirited as she is lovely. I paid her the kiss 
you sent her with all my heart, and she rapped my fingers 
for my reward with all* hers. Pray return as soon as you can. 
Meantime, rely upon the care of, yours faithfully, 10 

“Arthur Mervyn. 

“P.S. — You will naturally wish to know if I have the least 
guess concerning the person of the serenade. In truth, I 
have none. There is no young gentleman of these parts, 
who might be in rank or fortune a match for Miss Julia, that 15 
I think at all likely to play such a character. But on the 
other side of the lake, nearly opposite to Mervyn Hall, is 
a cake-house, the resort of walking gentlemen of all de- 
scriptions, poets, players, painters, musicians, who come to 
rave, and recite, and madden, about this picturesque land 20 
of ours. It is paying some penalty for its beauties, that they 
are the means of drawing this swarm of coxcombs together. 
But were Julia my daughter, it is one of those sort of fellows 
that I should fear on her account. She is generous and 
romantic, and writes six sheets a week to a female correspond- 25 
ent; and it’s a sad thing to lack a subject in such a case, 
either for exercise of the feelings or of the pen. Adieu, once 
more. Were I to treat this matter more seriously than I have 
done, I should do injustice to your feelings ; were I altogether 
to overlook it, I should discredit my own.” 30 

The consequence of this letter was, that, having first 
despatched the faithless messenger with the necessary powers 
1 


114 


GUY MANNERING 


to Mr. Mac-Morlan for purchasing the estate of Ellangowan, 
Colonel Mannering turned his horse’s head in a more 
southerly direction, and neither “stinted nor staid” until 
he arrived at the mansion of his friend Mr. Mervyn, upon 
5 the banks of one of the lakes of Westmoreland. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Heaven first, in its mercy, taught mortals their letters,® 

For ladies in limbo, and lovers in fetters, 

Or some author, who, placing his persons before ye, 
Ungallantly leaves them to write their own story. 

Pope, imitated . 

When Mannering returned to England, his first object had 
been to place his daughter in a seminary for female education, 
of established character. Not, however, finding her progress 
in the accomplishments which he wished her to acquire so 
rapid as his impatience expected, he had withdrawn Miss 5 
Mannering from the school at the end of the first quarter. 

So she had only time to form an eternal friendship with Miss 
Matilda Marchmont, a young lady about her own age, which 
was nearly eighteen. To her faithful eye were addressed 
those formidable quires which issued forth from Mervyn Hall, 10 
on the wings of the post, while Miss Mannering was a guest 
there. The perusal of a few short extracts from these may be 
necessary to render our story intelligible : 

First Extract 

“Alas! my dearest Matilda, what a tale is mine to tell! 15 
Misfortune from the cradle has set her seal upon your un- 
happy friend. That we should be severed for so slight a 
cause — an ungrammatical phrase in my Italian exercise, 

115 


116 


GUY M ANNE RING 


and three false notes in one of Paesiello’s sonatas ! But it 
is a part of my father’s character, of whom it is impossible 
to say, whether I love, admire, or fear him the most. His 
success in life and in war — his habit of making every obstacle 
5 yield before the energy of his exertions, even where they 
seemed insurmountable — all these have given a hasty and 
peremptory cast to his character, which can neither endure 
contradiction, nor make allowance for deficiencies. Then he 
is himself so very accomplished. Do you know there was 
io a murmur, half confirmed too by some mysterious words 
which dropped from my poor mother, that he possesses other 
sciences, now lost to the world, which enable the possessor to 
summon up before him the dark and shadowy forms of future 
events ! Does not the very idea of such a power, or even of 
is the high talent and commanding intellect which the world 
may mistake for it, — does it not, dear Matilda, throw a 
mysterious grandeur about its possessor?” 

Second Extract 

“You are possessed, my dear Matilda, of my bosom- 
20 secret, in those sentiments with which I regard Brown. I 
will not say his memory. I am convinced he lives, and 
is faithful. His addresses to me were countenanced by my 
deceased parent; imprudently countenanced perhaps, con- 
sidering the prejudices of my father, in favor of birth and 
25 rank. But I, then almost a girl, could not be expected 
surely to be wiser than her, under whose charge nature had 
placed me. My father, constantly engaged in military duty, 
I saw but at rare intervals, and was taught to look up to him 
with more awe than confidence. Would to Heaven it had 
30 been otherwise ! It might have been better for us all at this 
day!” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


117 


Third Extract 

“You ask me why I do not make known to my father that 
Brown yet lives, at least that he survived the wound he re- 
ceived in that unhappy duel ; and had written to my mother, 
expressing his entire convalescence, and his hope of speedily 5 
escaping from captivity. A soldier, that ‘in the trade of 
war has oft slain men,’ feels probably no uneasiness at re- 
flecting upon the supposed catastrophe, which almost turned 
me into stone. And should I show him that letter, does it 
not follow, that Brown, alive and maintaining with pertinacity 10 
the pretensions to the affections of your poor friend, for which 
my father formerly sought his life, would be a more formi- 
dable disturber of Colonel Mannering’s peace of mind than 
in his supposed grave? If he escapes from the hands of 
these marauders, I am convinced he will soon be in England, 15 
and it will be then time to consider how this existence is to 
be disclosed to my father — But if, alas ! my earnest and 
confident hope should betray me, what would it avail to tear 
open a mystery fraught with so many painful recollections ? — 
My dear mother had such dread of its being known, that I 20 
think she even suffered my father to suspect that Brown’s 
attentions were directed towards herself, rather than permit 
him to discover their real object; and, oh, Matilda, what- 
ever respect I owe to the memory of a deceased parent, let 
me do justice to a living one. I cannot but condemn the 25 
dubious policy which she adopted, as unjust to my father, 
and highly perilous to herself and me. — But peace be with 
her ashes ! her actions were guided by the heart rather than 
the head ; and shall her daughter, who inherits all her weak- 
ness, be the first to withdraw the veil from her defects?” 30 


118 


GUY MANNERING 


Fourth Extract 

“ Mervyn Hall 

“If India be the land of magic, this, my dearest Matilda, 
is the country of romance. The scenery is such as nature 
5 brings together in her sublimest moods ; — sounding cataracts 
— hills which rear their scathed heads to the sky — lakes, that, 
winding up the shadowy valleys, lead at every turn to yet 
more romantic recesses — rocks which catch the clouds of 
heaven. All the wildness of Salvator 0 here, and there the 
io fairy scenes of Claude. 0 

“I am at present the inmate of Mr. and Mrs. Mervyn, old 
friends of my father. The latter is precisely a good sort of 
woman ; — ladylike and housewifely, but, for accomplish- 
ments or fancy — good lack, my dearest Matilda, your friend 
is might as well seek sympathy from Mrs. Teach’em, — you see 
I have not forgot school nicknames. Mervyn is a different — 
quite a different being from my father; yet he amuses and 
endures me. He is fat and good-natured, gifted with strong 
shrewd sense, and some powers of humor; but having been 
20 handsome, I suppose, in his youth, has still some pretension 
to be a beau gargon,° as well as an enthusiastic agriculturist. 

“But, alas! my dearest Matilda, how would time pass 
away, even in this paradise of romance, tenanted as it is by 
a pair assorting so ill with the scenes around them, were it 
25 not for your fidelity in replying to my uninteresting details? 
Pray do not fail to write three times a week at least — you can 
be at no loss what to say.” 

Fifth Extract 

“How shall I communicate what I have now to tell! — 
30 My hand and heart still flutter so much, that the task of 
writing is almost impossible ! — Did I not say that he lived ? 


GUY MANNERING 


119 


did I not say I would not despair ? But to my tale — let it 
be, my friend, the most sacred, as it is the most sincere, pledge 
of our friendship. 

“Our hours here are early — earlier than my heart, with its 
load of care, can compose itself to rest. I, therefore, usually s 
take a book for an hour or two after retiring to my own 
room, which I think I have told you opens to a small 
balcony, looking down upon that beautiful lake, of which 
I attempted to give you a slight sketch. Mervyn Hall, being 
partly an ancient building, and constructed with a view to io 
defence, is situated on the verge of the lake. A stone dropped 
from the projecting balcony plunges into water deep enough 
to float a skiff. I had left my window partly unbarred, that, 
before I went to bed, I might, according to my custom, look 
out and see the moonlight shining upon the lake. I was is 
deeply engaged with that beautiful scene in the ‘Merchant 
of Venice,’ where two lovers, describing the stillness of a 
summer night, enhance on each other its charms, and was 
lost in the associations of story and of feeling which it 
awakens, when I heard upon the lake the sound of a flageolet. 20 
I have told you it was Brown’s favorite instrument. I 
drew yet nearer the window, and hearkened with breathless at- 
tention — the sounds paused a space, were then resumed — 
paused again — and again reached my ear, ever coming nearer 
and nearer. At length, I distinguished plainly that little 25 
Hindu air which you called my favorite — I have told you 
by whom it was taught me — the instrument, the tones, 
were his own ! — was it earthly music, or notes passing on 
the wind, to warn me of his death? 

“It was some time ere I could summon courage to step 30 
on the balcony — nothing could have emboldened me to do 
so but the strong conviction of my mind, that he was still 
alive, and that we should again meet — but that conviction 


120 


GUY MANNERING 


did embolden me, and I ventured, though with a throbbing 
heart. There was a small skiff with a single person — O 
Matilda, it was himself ! — I knew his appearance after so 
long an absence, and through the shadow of the night, as 
S perfectly as if we had parted yesterday, and met again in the 
broad sunshine ! He guided his boat under the balcony, 
and spoke to me; I hardly knew what he said, or what I 
replied. Indeed, I could scarcely speak for weeping, but 
they were joyful tears. We were disturbed by the barking 
io of a dog at some distance, and parted, but not before he had 
conjured me to prepare to meet him at the same place and 
hour this evening. 

“But where and to what is all this tending? — Can I answer 
this question ? I cannot. — Heaven, that saved him from 
1 5 death, and delivered him from captivity ; that saved my 
father too, from shedding the blood of one who would not 
have blemished a hair of his head, that heaven must guide 
me out of this labyrinth. Enough for me the firm resolution, 
that Matilda shall not blush for her friend, my father for 
20 his daughter, nor my lover for her on whom he has fixed 
his affection.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Talk with a man out of a window ! — a proper saying.® 

Much Ado About Nothing. 

We must proceed with our extracts from Miss Mannering’s 
letters, which throw light upon natural good sense, principle, 
and feelings, blemished by an imperfect education, and the 
folly of a misjudging mother, who called her husband in her 
heart a tyrant until she feared him as such, and read romances 5 
until she became so enamored of the complicated intrigues 
which they contain, as to assume the management of a little 
family novel of her own, and constitute her daughter, a girl 
of sixteen, the principal heroine. She delighted in petty 
mystery, and intrigue and secrets, and yet trembled at the 10 
indignation which these paltry manoeuvres excited in her 
husband’s mind. Thus she frequently entered upon a scheme 
merely for pleasure, or perhaps for the love of contradiction, 
plunged deeper into it than she was aware, endeavored to 
extricate herself by new arts, or to cover her error by dis- 15 
simulation, became involved in meshes of her own weaving, 
and was forced to carry on, for fear of discovery, machinations 
which she had at first resorted to in mere wantonness. 

Fortunately the young man whom she so imprudently 
introduced into her intimate society, and encouraged to look 20 
up to her daughter, had a fund of principle and honest pride, 
which rendered him a safer intimate than Mrs. Mannering 
ought to have dared to hope or expect. 

121 


122 


GUY MANNERING 


But it could not be expected that he should resist the snare 
which Mrs. Mannering’s imprudence threw in his way, or 
avoid becoming attached to a young lady, whose beauty and 
manners might have justified his passion, even in scenes where 
5 these are more generally met with, than in a remote fortress 
in our Indian settlements. The scenes which followed have 
been partly detailed in Mannering’s .letter to Mr. Mervyn ; 
and to expand what is there stated into further explanation, 
would be to abuse the patience of our readers, 
io We shall, therefore, proceed with our promised extracts 
from Miss Mannering’s letters to her friend : — 

Sixth Extract 

“I have seen him again, Matilda — seen him twice. I have 
used every argument to convince him that this secret inter- 
15 course is dangerous to us both — I even pressed him to pursue 
his views of fortune without further regard to me, and to 
consider my peace of mind as sufficiently secured by the 
knowledge that he had not fallen under my father’s sword. 
He answers — but how can I detail all he has to answer ? he 
20 claims those hopes as his due which my mother permitted 
him to entertain, and would persuade me to the madness of 
a union without my father’s sanction. But to this, Matilda, 
I will not be persuaded. I have resisted, I have subdued, 
the rebellious feelings which arose to aid his plea; yet how 
25 to extricate myself from this unhappy labyrinth, in which 
fate and folly have entangled us both ! 

“I have thought upon it, Matilda, till my head is almost 
giddy — • nor can I conceive a better plan than to make a full 
confession to my father. . He deserves it, for his kindness 
30 is unceasing ; and I think I have observed in his character, 
since I have studied it more nearly, that his harsher feelings 


GUY M ANNE RING 


123 


are chiefly excited where he suspects deceit or imposition; 
and in that respect, perhaps, his character was formerly 
misunderstood by one who was dear to him. He has, too, 
a tinge of romance in his disposition; and I have seen the 
narrative of a generous action, a trait of heroism, or virtuous 5 
self-denial, extract tears from him, which refused to flow at 
a tale of mere distress. But then, Brown urges, that he is 
personally hostile to him — And the obscurity of his birth — 
that would be indeed a stumbling-block. O Matilda, I hope 
none of your ancestors ever fought at Poictiers 0 or Agincourt !° io 
If it were not for the veneration which my father attaches 
to the memory of old Sir Miles Mannering, I should make out 
my explanation with half the tremor which must now attend 
it.” 

Seventh Extract 15 

“I have this instant received your letter — your most wel- 
come letter ! — Thanks, my dearest friend, for your sympathy 
and your counsels — I can only repay them with unbounded 
confidence. 

“You ask me, what Brown is by origin, that his descent 20 
should be so unpleasing to my father. His story is shortly 
told. He is of Scottish extraction, but, being left an orphan, 
his education was undertaken by a family of relations, settled 
in Holland. He was bred to commerce, and sent very early 
to one of our settlements in the East, where his guardian had 25 
a correspondent. But this correspondent was dead when he 
arrived in India, and he had no other resource than to offer 
himself as a clerk to a counting-house. The breaking out of 
the war, and the straits to which we were at first reduced, 
threw the army open to all young men who were disposed to 30 
embrace that mode of life; and Brown, whose genius had 
a strong military tendency, was the first to leave what might 


124 


GUY MANNERING 


have been the road to wealth, and to choose that of fame. 
The rest of his history is well known to you; but conceive 
the irritation of my father, who despises commerce (though, 
by the way, the best part of his property was made in that 
S honorable profession by my great-uncle), and has a particular 
antipathy to the Dutch; think with what ear he would be 
likely to receive proposals for his only child from Vanbeest 
Brown, educated for charity by the house of Vanbeest and 
Vanbruggen ! O Matilda, it will never do — nay, so childish 
io am I, I hardly can help sympathizing with his aristocratic 
feelings. Mrs. Vanbeest Brown! The name has little to 
recommend it, to be sure. — What children we are 1 ” 

Eighth Extract 

“It is all over now, Matilda ! — I shall never have courage 
is to tell my father — ■ nay, most deeply do I fear he has already 
learned my secret from another quarter, which will entirely 
remove the grace of my communication, and ruin whatever 
gleam of hope I had ventured to connect with it. Yester- 
night, Brown came as usual, and his flageolet on the lake 
20 announced his approach. We had agreed, that he should 
continue to use this signal. These romantic lakes attract 
numerous visitors, who indulge their enthusiasm in visiting 
the scenery at all hours, and we hoped, that if Brown were 
noticed from the house, he might pass for one of those 
25 admirers of nature, who was giving vent to his feelings 
through the medium of music. The sounds might also be 
my apology, should I be observed on the balcony. But last 
night, while I was eagerly enforcing my plan of a full confes- 
sion to my father, which he as earnestly deprecated, we heard 
30 the window of Mr. Mervyn’s library, which is under my room, 
open softly. I signed to Brown to make his retreat, and 


GUY M ANNE RING 


125 


immediately re-entered, with some faint hopes that our inter- 
view had not been observed. 

“But, alas! Matilda, these hopes vanished the instant I 
beheld Mr. Mervyn’s countenance at breakfast the next morn- 
ing. He looked so provokingly intelligent and confidential, 5 
that, had I dared, I could have been more angry than ever 
I was in my life ; but I must be on good behavior, and my 
walks &re now limited within his farm precincts, where the 
good gentleman can amble along by my side without incon- 
venience. I have detected him once or twice attempting to 10 
sound my thoughts, and watch the expression of my counte- 
nance. He has talked of the flageolet more than once ; and 
has, at different times, made eulogiums upon the watchfulness 
and ferocity of his dogs, and the regularity with which the 
keeper makes his rounds with a loaded fowling-piece. He 15 
mentioned even man-traps and spring-guns. I should be 
loath to affront my father’s old friend in his own house ; but 
I do long to show him that I am my father’s daughter, a fact 
of which Mr. Mervyn will certainly be convinced, if ever I 
trust my voice and temper with a reply to these indirect hints. 20 
What Brown will do I cannot guess. I presume, however, 
the fear of detection prevents his resuming his nocturnal 
visits. He lodges at an inn on the opposite shore of the lake, 
under the name, he tells me, of Dawson — he has a bad choice 
in names, that must be allowed. He has not left the army, 25 
I believe, but he says nothing of his present views. 

“To complete my anxiety, my father is returned suddenly, 
and in high displeasure. Our good hostess, as I learned 
from a bustling conversation between her housekeeper and 
her, had no expectation of seeing him for a week ; but I 3° 
rather suspect his arrival was no surprise to his friend Mr. 
Mervyn. His manner to me was singularly cold and con- 
strained — sufficiently so to have damped all the courage with 


126 


GUY MANNERING 


which I once resolved to throw myself on his generosity. 
He lays the blame of his being discomposed and out of humor 
to the loss of a purchase in the south-west of Scotland, on 
which he had set his heart ; but I do not suspect his equa- 
5 nimity of being so easily thrown off its balance. His first 
excursion was with Mr. Mervyn’s barge across the lake, 
to the inn I have mentioned. You may imagine the agony 
with which I waited his return — Had he recognized Brown, 
who can guess the consequence! He returned, however, 
io apparently without having made any discovery. I under- 
stand, that in consequence of his late disappointment, he 
means now to hire a house in the neighborhood of this same 
Ellangowan, of which I am doomed to hear so much — he 
seems to think it probable that the estate for which he wishes 
is may soon be again in the market. I will not send away 
this letter until I hear more distinctly what are his intentions.” 

“I have now had an interview with my father, as confi- 
dential as, I presume, he means to allow me. He requested 
me to-day, after breakfast, to walk with him into the library ; 
20 my knees, Matilda, shook under me, and it is no exaggera- 
tion to say, I could scarce follow him into the room. I 
feared I knew not what — From my childhood I had seen all 
around him tremble at his frown. He motioned me to seat 
myself, and I never obeyed a command so readily, for, in 
25 truth, I could hardly stand. He himself continued to walk 
up and down the room. You have seen my father, and 
noticed, I recollect, the remarkably expressive cast of his 
features. His eyes are naturally rather light in color, but 
agitation or anger gives them a darker and more fiery glance ; 
30 has a custom also of drawing in his lips, when much moved, 
which implies a combat between native ardor of temper 
and the habitual power of self-command. This was the 


GUY MANNERING 


127 


first time we had been alone since his return from Scotland, 
and, as he betrayed these tokens of agitation, I had little 
doubt that he was about to enter upon the subject I most 
dreaded. 

“To my unutterable relief, I found I was mistaken, and 5 
that whatever he knew of Mr. Mervyn’s suspicions or dis- 
coveries, he did not intend to converse with me on the topic. 
Coward as I was, I was inexpressibly relieved, though if he 
had really investigated the reports which may have come to 
his ear, the reality could have been nothing to what his 10 
suspicions might have conceived. But, though my spirits 
rose high at my unexpected escape, I had not courage myself 
to provoke the discussion, and remained silent to receive his 
commands. 

“‘Julia,’ he said, ‘my agent writes me from Scotland, that is 
he has been able to hire a house for me, decently furnished, 
and with the necessary accommodation for my family — it is 

within three miles of that I had designed to purchase ’ 

Then he made a paus6, and seemed to expect an answer. 

“‘Whatever place of residence suits you, sir, must be 20 
perfectly agreeable to me.’ 

‘“Umph! — I do not propose, however, Julia, that you 
shall reside quite alone in this house during the winter.’ 

“Mr. and Mrs. Mervyn, thought I to myself. — ‘Whatever 
company is agreeable to you, sir,’ I answered aloud. 25 

“‘Oh, there is a little too much of this universal spirit of 
submission ; an excellent disposition in action, but your con- 
stantly repeating the jargon of it, puts me in mind of the 
eternal salaams of our black dependants in the East. In 
short, Julia, I know you have a relish for society, and I 30 
intend to invite a young person, the daughter of a deceased 
friend, to spend a few months with us.’ 

‘“Not a governess, for the love of (Heaven, papa!’ ex- 


128 


GUY M ANNE RING 


claimed poor I, my fears at that moment totally getting the 
better of my prudence. 

“ ‘No, not a governess, Miss Mannering,’ replied the Colonel, 
somewhat sternly, ‘but a young lady from whose excellent 
5 example, bred as she has been in the school of adversity, I 
trust you may learn the art to govern yourself.’ 

“To answer this was trenching upon too dangerous ground, 
so there was a pause. 

“ ‘Is the young lady a Scotchwoman, papa?’ 
io “ ‘ Yes’ — dryly enough. 

‘“Has she much of the accent, sir?’ 

“ ‘Much of the devil ! ’ answered my father hastily ; ‘do you 
think I care about a’s and act’s, and i’s and ee’s ? — I tell you, 
Julia, I am serious in the matter. You have a genius for 
15 friendship, that is, for running up intimacies which you call 
such’ — (was not this very harshly said, Matilda?) — ‘Now 
I wish to give you an opportunity at least to make one deserv- 
ing friend, and therefore I have resolved that this young lady 
shall be a member of my family for some months, and I 
20 expect you will pay to her that attention which is due to 
misfortune and virtue.’ 

“‘Certainly, sir. — Is my future friend red-haired?’ 

“He gave me one of his stern glances; you will say, per- 
haps, I deserved it ; but I think the deuce prompts me with 
25 teasing questions on some occasions. 

‘“She is as superior to you, my love, in personal appear- 
ance, as in prudence and affection for her friends.’ 

“ ‘Lord, papa, do you think that superiority a recommenda- 
tion ? — Well, sir, but I see you are going to take all this too 
30 seriously ; whatever the young lady may be, I am sure, being 
recommended by you, she shall have no reason to complain 
of my want of attention. But, pray, is the house we are 
going to as pleasantly situated as this?’ 


GUY M ANNE RING 


129 


“‘Not perhaps as much to your taste — there is no lake 
under the windows, and you will be under the necessity of 
having all your music within doors.’ 

“This last coup de main 0 ended the keen encounter of our 
wits, for you may believe, Matilda, it quelled all my courage 5 
to reply. 

“Yet my spirits, as perhaps will appear too manifest from 
this dialogue, have risen insensibly, and, as it were, in spite of 
myself. Brown alive, and free, and in England ! Embarrass- 
ment and anxiety I can and must endure. We leave this in 10 
two days for our new residence. I shall not fail to let you 
know what I think of these Scotch inmates, whom I have but 
too much reason to believe my father means to quarter in his 
house as a brace of honorable spies ; a sort of female Rozen- 
crantz and reverend Guildenstern, 0 one in tartan petticoats, 15 
the other in a cassock. What a contrast to the society I 
would willingly have secured to myself! I shall write in- 
stantly on my arriving at our new place of abode, and acquaint 
my dearest Matilda with the further fates of — her 

“Julia Mannering.” 20 


» 



K 


CHAPTER XIX 


Which sloping hills around enclose , 0 
Where many a beach and brown oak grows, 

Beneath whose dark and branching bowers, 

Its tides a far-fam’d river pours, 

By nature’s beauties taught to please, 

Sweet Tusculan of rural ease ! — 

Warton. 

Woodbourne, the habitation which Mannering, by Mr. 
Mac-Morlan’s mediation, had hired for a season, was a large 
comfortable mansion, snugly situated beneath a hill covered 
with wood, which shrouded the house upon the north and 
5 east ; the front looked upon a little lawn bordered by a grove 
of old trees ; beyond were some arable fields, extending down 
to the river, which was seen from the windows of the house. 
A tolerable, though old-fashioned garden, a well-stocked 
dove cot, and the possession of any quantity of ground which 
io the convenience of the family might require, rendered the 
place in every respect suitable, as the advertisements have 
it, “for the accommodation* of a genteel family.” 

He had still his eye upon the purchase of Ellangowan, 
which Mac-Morlan conceived Mr. Glossin would be com- 
iS pelled to part with, as some of the creditors disputed his title 
to retain so large a part of the purchase-money in his own 
hands, and his power to pay it was much questioned. In that 
case Mac-Morlan was assured he would readily give up his 
bargain, if tempted with something above the price which he 
20 had stipulated to pay. It may seem strange, that Mannering 

130 


GUY M ANNE RING 


131 


was so much attached to a spot which he had only seen once, 
and that for a short time, in early life. But the circumstances 
which passed there had laid a strong hold on his imagination. 
There seemed to be a fate which conjoined the remarkable 
passages of his own family history with those of the inhabi- 5 
tants of Ellangowan, and he felt a mysterious desire to call the 
terrace his own, from which he had read in the book of heaven 
a fortune strangely accomplished in the person of the infant 
heir of that family, and corresponding so closely with one 
which had been strikingly fulfilled in his own. Besides, when io 
once this thought had got possession of his imagination, he 
could not, without great reluctance, brook the idea of his plan 
being defeated, and by a fellow like Glossin. So pride came 
to the aid of fancy, and both combined to fortify his resolution 
to buy the estate if possible. is 

Let us do Mannering justice. A desire to serve the dis- 
tressed had also its share in determining him. He had 
considered the advantage which Julia might receive from the 
company of Lucy Bertram, whose genuine prudence and good 
sense could so surely be relied upon. Lucy Bertram, with 20 
some hesitation, accepted the invitation to reside a few weeks 
with Miss Mannering. She felt too well, that however the 
Colonel’s delicacy might disguise the truth, his principal 
motive was a generous desire to afford her his countenance 
and protection, which his high connections, and higher char- 25 
acter, were likely to render influential in the neighborhood. 

About the same time the orphan girl received a letter from 
Mrs. Bertram, the relation to whom she had written, as cold 
and comfortless as could well be imagined. It enclosed, 
indeed, a small sum of money, but strongly recommended 30 
economy, and that Miss Bertram should board herself in some 
quiet family, either at Kippletringan or in the neighborhood, 
assuring her, that though her own income was very scanty, she 


132 


GUY MANNERING 


would not see her kinswoman want. Miss Bertram shed some 
natural tears over this cold-hearted epistle ; for in her mother’s 
time, this good lady had been a guest at Ellangowan for nearly 
three years, and it was only upon succeeding to a property of 
5 about £400 a year that she had taken farewell of that hospi- 
table mansion, which, otherwise, might have had the honor of 
sheltering her until the death of its owner. Lucy was strongly 
inclined to return the paltry donation, which, after some 
struggles with avarice, pride had extorted from the old lady, 
io But on consideration, she contented herself with writing, that 
she accepted it as a loan, which she hoped in a short time to 
repay, and consulted her relative upon the invitation she had 
received from Colonel and Miss Mannering. This time the 
answer came in course of post, so fearful was Mrs. Bertram, 
is that some frivolous delicacy, or nonsense, as she termed it, 
might induce her cousin to reject such a promising offer, and 
thereby at the same time to leave herself still a burden upon 
her relations. Lucy, therefore, had no alternative, unless she 
preferred continuing a burden upon the worthy Mac-Morlans, 
20 who were too liberal to be rich. Those kinsfolk who formerly 
requested the favor of her company, had of late either silently, 
or with expressions of resentment that she should have pre- 
ferred Mac-Morlan’s invitation to theirs, gradually withdrawn 
their notice. 

2 5 The fate of Dominie Sampson would have been deplorable 
had it depended upon any one except Mannering, who was 
an admirer of originality, for a separation from Lucy Bertram 
would have certainly broken his heart. Mac-Morlan had 
given a full account of his proceedings towards the daughter 
30 of his patron. The answer was a request from Mannering to 
know, whether the Dominie still possessed that admirable 
virtue of taciturnity by which he was so notably distinguished 
at Ellangowan. Mac-Morlan replied in the affirmative. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


133 


“Let Mr. Sampson know,” said the Colonel’s next letter, 
“that I shall want his assistance to catalogue and put in 
order the library of my uncle, the bishop, which I have ordered 
to be sent down by sea. I shall also want him to copy and 
arrange some papers. Fix his salary at what you think 5 
befitting. Let the poor man be properly dressed, and ac- 
company his young lady to Woodbourne.” 

When the Dominie first heard the liberal proposal of 
Colonel Mannering, he turned a jealous and doubtful glance 
towards Miss Bertram, as if he suspected that the project 10 
involved their separation ; but when Mr. Mac-Morlan 
hastened to explain that she would be a guest at Wood- 
bourne for some time, he rubbed his huge hands together, 
and burst into a portentous sort of chuckle, like that of the 
Afrite in the tale of the Caliph Vathek. After this unusual is 
explosion of satisfaction, he remained quite passive in all the 
rest of the transaction. 

It had been settled that Mr. and Mrs. Mac-Morlan should 
take possession of the house a few days before Mannering’s 
arrival, both to put everything in perfect order, and to make 20 
the transference of Miss Bertram’s residence from their family 
to his as easy and delicate as possible. Accordingly, in the 
beginning of the month of December, the party were settled 
at Woodbourne. 


CHAPTER XX 


A gigantic genius, fit to grapple with whole libraries.® 
Boswell’s Life of Johnson. 

The appointed day arrived, when the Colonel and Miss 
Mannering were expected at Woodbourne. The hour was 
fast approaching, and the little circle within doors had each 
their separate subjects of anxiety. Mac-Morlan naturally 
5 desired to attach to himself the patronage and countenance 
of a person of Mannering’s wealth and consequence. He 
was aware, from his knowledge of mankind, that Mannering, 
though generous and benevolent, had the foible of expecting 
and exacting a minute compliance with his directions. He 
io was therefore racking his recollection to discover if every- 
thing had been arranged to meet the Colonel’s wishes and in- 
structions, and under this uncertainty of mind, he traversed 
the house more than once from the garret to the stables. 
Mrs. Mac-Morlan revolved in a lesser orbit, comprehending 
is the dining parlor, housekeeper’s room, and kitchen. She 
was only afraid that the dinner might be spoiled, to the dis- 
credit of her housewifely accomplishments. Even the usual 
passiveness of the Dominie was so far disturbed, that he twice 
went to the window, which looked out upon the avenue, and 
20 twice exclaimed, “Why tarry the wheels of their chariot?” 
Lucy, the most quiet of the expectants, had her own melan- 
choly thoughts. She was now about to be consigned to the 
charge, almost to the benevolence, of strangers, with whose 
character, though hitherto very amiably displayed, she was 
134 


GUY M ANNE RING 


135 


but imperfectly acquainted. The moments, therefore, ol 
suspense passed anxiously and heavily. 

At length the trampling of horses and the sound of wheels 
were heard. The servants, who had already arrived, drew up 
in the hall to receive their master and mistress, with an im- 5 
portance and empressement , 0 which, to Lucy, who had never 
been accustomed to society, or witnessed what is called the 
manners of the great, had something alarming. Mac-Morlan 
went to the door to receive the master and mistress of the 
family, and in a few moments they were in the drawing-room. 10 
Mannering, who had travelled as usual on horseback, 
entered with his daughter hanging upon his arm. She was of 
the middle size, or rather less, but formed with much elegance ; 
piercing dark eyes, and jet-black hair of great length, corre- 
sponded with the vivacity and intelligence of features, in which 15 
were blended a little haughtiness, and a little bashfulness, a 
great deal of shrewdness, and some power of humorous 
sarcasm. “I shall not like her,” was the result of Lucy 
Bertram’s first glance; “and yet I rather think I shall,” was 
the thought excited by the second. 20 

Miss Mannering was furred and mantled up to the throat 
against the severity of the weather ; the Colonel in his military 
great-coat. He bowed to Mrs. Mac-Morlan, whom his 
daughter also acknowledged with a fashionable courtesy, not 
dropped so low as at all to incommode her person. The 25 
Colonel then led his daughter up to Miss Bertram, and, taking 
the hand of the latter, with an air of great kindness, and almost 
paternal affection, he said, “Julia, this is the young lady whom 
I hope our good friends have prevailed on to honor our house 
with a long visit. I shall be much gratified indeed if you 30 
can render Woodbourne as pleasant to Miss Bertram as 
Ellangowan was to me when I first came as a wanderer into 
this country.” 


136 


GUY M ANNE RING 


The young lady curtsied acquiescence, and took her new 
friend’s hand. Mannering now turned his eye upon the 
Dominie, who had made bows since his entrance into the 
room, sprawling out his leg, and bending his back like an 
S automaton, which continues to repeat the same movement 
until the motion is stopt by the artist. ‘‘My good friend, 
Mr. Sampson,” — said Mannering, introducing him to his 
daughter, and darting at the same time a reproving glance at 
the damsel, notwithstanding he had himself some disposition 
io to join her too obvious inclination to risibility — “This 
gentleman, Julia, is to put my books in order when they arrive, 
and I expect to derive great advantage from his extensive 
learning.” 

“I am sure we are obliged to the gentleman, papa, and, to 
15 borrow a ministerial mode of giving thanks, I shall never for- 
get the extraordinary countenance he has been pleased to 
show us. — But, Miss Bertram,” continued she hastily, for 
her father’s brows began to darken, “we have travelled a 
good way, — will you permit me to retire before dinner ? ” 

20 This intimation dispersed all the company, save the 
Dominie, who, having no idea of dressing but when he was 
to rise, or of undressing but when he meant to go to bed, 
remained by himself, chewing the cud of a mathematical 
demonstration, until the company again assembled in the 
25 drawing-room, and from thence adjourned to the dining- 
parlor. 

When the day was concluded, Mannering took an oppor- 
tunity to hold a minute’s conversation with his daughter in 
private. 

30 ‘ ‘ How do you like your guests, Julia ? ” 

“Oh, Miss Bertram of all things' — but this is a most 
original parson — why, dear sir, no human being will be 
able to look at him without laughing.” 


GUY MANNER1NG 


137 


“While he is under my roof, Julia, every one must learn to 
do so.” 

“Lord, papa, the very footmen could not keep their 
gravity I” 

“Then let them strip off my livery,” said the Colonel, 5 
“and laugh at their leisure. Mr. Sampson is a man whom 
I esteem for his simplicity and benevolence of character.” 

In a day or two Mr. and Mrs. Mac-Morlan left Wood- 
bourne, after taking an affectionate farewell of their late 
guest. The household were now settled in their new quarters. 10 
The young ladies followed their studies and amusements to- 
gether. Colonel Mannering was agreeably surprised to find 
that Miss Bertram was well skilled in French and Italian, 
thanks to the assiduity of Dominie Sampson, whose labor 
had silently made him acquainted with most modern as well 15 
as ancient languages. Of music she knew little or nothing, 
but her new friend undertook to give her lessons ; in exchange 
for which, she was to learn from Lucy the habit of walking, 
the art of riding, and the courage necessary to defy the 
season. Mannering was careful to substitute for their amuse- 20 
ment in the evenings such books as might convey some 
solid instruction with entertainment, and as he read aloud 
with great skill and taste, the winter nights passed pleasantly 
away. 

And, having thus left the principal characters of our tale 25 
in a situation which, being sufficiently comfortable to them- 
selves, is, of course, utterly uninteresting to the reader, we 
take up the history of a person who has as yet only been 
named, and who has all the interest that uncertainty and 
misfortune can give. 30 


CHAPTER XXI 


What say’st thou, Wise One ? — that all-powerful Love° 
Can fortune’s strong impediments remove ; 

Nor is it strange that worth should wed to worth, 

The pride of genius with the pride of birth. 

Crabbe. 

V. Brown — I will not give at full length his thrice unhappy 
name — had been from infancy a ball for fortune to spurn at ; 
but nature had given him thRt elasticity of mind which rises 
higher from the rebound. His form was tall, manly, and 
5 active, and his features corresponded with his person ; for, 
although far from regular, they had an expression of intelli- 
gence and good-humor, and when he spoke, or was par- 
ticularly animated, might be decidedly pronounced interest- 
ing. His manner indicated the military profession, which 
io had been his choice, and in which he had now attained the 
rank of captain, the person who succeeded Colonel Mannering 
in his command having labored to repair the injustice which 
Brown had sustained by that gentleman’s prejudice against 
him. But this, as well as his liberation from captivity, had 
is taken place after Mannering left India. Brown followed at 
no distant period, his regiment being recalled home. His 
first inquiry was after the family of Mannering, and, easily 
learning their route northward, he followed it with the pur- 
pose of resuming his addresses to Julia. With her father he 
20 deemed he had no measures to keep ; for, ignorant of the more 
venomous belief which had been instilled into the Colonel’s 

138 


GUY M ANNE RING 


139 


mind, he regarded him as an oppressive aristocrat, who had 
used his power as a commanding officer to deprive him of 
the preferment due to his behavior, and who had forced 
upon him a personal quarrel without any better reason than 
his attentions to a pretty young woman, agreeable to herself, 5 
and permitted and countenanced by her mother. He was 
determined, therefore, to take no rejection unless from the 
young lady herself, believing that the heavy misfortunes of 
his painful wound and imprisonment were direct injuries 
received from her father, which might dispense with his using 10 
much ceremony towards him. How far his scheme had 
succeeded when his nocturnal visit was discovered by Mr. 
Mervyn, our readers are already informed. 

Upon this unpleasant occurrence, Captain Brown absented 
himself from the inn in which he had resided under the name 15 
of Dawson, so that Colonel Mannering’s attempt to discover 
and trace him were unavailing. He resolved, however, that 
no difficulties should prevent his continuing his enterprise, 
while Julia left him a ray of hope. The interest he had 
secured in her bosom was such as she had been unable to 20 
conceal from him, and with all the courage of romantic 
gallantry he determined upon perseverance. But we believe 
the reader will be as well pleased to learn his mode of think- 
ing and intentions from his own communication to his special 
friend and confidant, Captain Delaserre, a Swiss gentleman, 25 
who had a company in his regiment. 

Extract 

“Let me hear from you soon, dear Delaserre. — Remember, 

I can learn nothing about regimental affairs but through your 
friendly medium, and I long to know what has become of 30 
Ayre’s court-martial, and whether Elliot gets the majority; 


140 


GUY MANN BRING 


also how recruiting comes on, and how the young officers 
like the mess. Of our kind friend, the Lieutenant-Colonel, 
I need ask nothing ; I saw him as I passed through Notting- 
ham, happy in the bosom of his family. 

5 “And now, I hope you are expiring with curiosity to learn 
the end of my romance. I told you I had deemed it con- 
venient to make a few days’ tour on foot among the mountains 
of Westmoreland, with Dudley, a young English artist, with 
whom I have formed some acquaintance. A fine fellow this, 
io you must know, Delaserre — he paints tolerably, draws 
beautifully, converses well, and plays charmingly on the flute ; 
and, though thus w r ell entitled to be a coxcomb of talent, is, 
in fact, a modest unpretending young man. On our return 
from our little tour, I learned that the enemy had been 
is reconnoitring. Mr. Mervyn’s barge had crossed the lake, 
I was informed by my landlord, with the squire himself and 
a visitor. 

“ ‘ What sort of person, landlord ? ’ 

“ ‘ Why, he was a dark officer-looking mon, at they called 
20 Colonel — Squoire Mervyn questioned me as close as I had 
been at sizes — I had guess, Mr. Dawson’ (I told you that 
was my feigned name) — ‘ But I tould him nought of your 
vagaries, and going out a-laking in the mere a-noights — not I 
— an I can make no sport I’se spoil none — and Squoire 
25 Mervyn’s as cross as poy-crust too, mon — he’s aye maunder- 
ing an my guests but land beneath his house, though it be 
marked for the fourth station in the Survey. Noa, noa, e’en 
let un smell things out o’ themselves for Joe Hodges ’ 

“You will allow there was nothing for it after this, but 
3 o paying honest Joe Hodges’s bill, and departing, unless I had 
preferred making him my confidant, for which I felt in no way 
inclined. Besides, I learned that our ci-devant 0 Colonel was 
on full retreat for Scotland, carrying off poor Julia along 


GUY M ANNE RING 


141 


with him. I understand from those who conduct the heavy 
baggage, that he takes his winter quarters at a place called 

Woodbourne, in shire in Scotland. He will be all on 

the alert just now, so I must let him enter his entrenchments 
without any new alarm. And then, my good Colonel, to 5 
whom I owe so many grateful thanks, pray look to your 
defence. 

“I protest to you, Delaserre, I often think there is a little 
contradiction enters into the ardor of my pursuit. I think 
I would rather bring this haughty insulting man to the neces- 10 
sity of calling his daughter Mrs. Brown, than I would wed 
her with his full consent, and with the king’s permission to 
change my name for the style and the arms of Mannering, 
though his whole fortune went with them. There is only one 
circumstance that chills me a little — Julia is young and 15 
romantic. I would not willingly hurry her into a step which 
her riper years might disapprove — no ; — nor would I like to 
have her upbraid me, were it but with a glance of her eye, 
with having ruined her fortunes — far less give her reason to 
say, as some have not been slow to tell their lords, that, had 20 
I left her time for consideration, she would have been wiser 
and done better. 

‘I wish you saw this country. I think the scenery would 
delight you. At least it often brings to my recollection your 
glowing descriptions of your native country. To me it has in 25 
a great measure the charm of novelty. Of the Scottish hills, 
though born among them, as I have always been assured, 

I have but an indistinct recollection. Indeed, my memory 
rather dwells upon the blank wdiich my youthful mind experi- 
enced in gazing on the levels of the isle of Zealand, than on 30 
anything which preceded that feeling; but I am confident, 
from that sensation, as well as from the recollections which 
preceded it, that hills and rocks have been familiar to me at 


142 


GUY M ANNE RING 


an early period, and that though now only remembered by 
contrast, and by the blank which I felt while gazing around 
for them in vain, they must have made an indelible impression 
on my infant imagination. I remember when we first mounted 
s that celebrated pass in the Mysore country, while most of the 
others felt only awe and astonishment at the height and 
grandeur of the scenery, I rather shared your feelings and 
those of Cameron, whose admiration of such wild rocks was 
blended with familiar love, derived from early association, 
io Despite my Dutch education, a blue hill to me is as a friend, 
and a roaring torrent like the sound of a domestic song that 
hath soothed my infancy. 

“Did you know that Colonel Mannering was a draughts- 
man ? — I believe not, for he scorned to display his accom- 
1 5 plishments to the view of a subaltern. He draws beautifully, 
however. Since he and Julia left Mervyn Hall, Dudley was 
sent for there. The squire, it seems, wanted a set of drawings 
made up, of which Mannering had done the first four, but 
was interrupted, by his hasty departure, in his purpose of 
20 completing them. Dudley says he has seldom seen anything 
so masterly, though slight; and each had attached to it a 
short poetical description. Is Saul, you will say, among the 
prophets ? — Colonel Mannering write poetry ! — Why surely 
this man must have taken all the pains to conceal his accom- 
25 plishments that others do to display theirs. How reserved 
and unsociable he appeared among us ! — how little disposed 
to enter into any conversation which could become generally 
interesting! And then his attachment to that unworthy 
Archer, so much below him in every respect ; and all this, 
3° because he was the brother of Viscount Archerfield, a poor 
Scottish peer ! I think if Archer had longer survived the 
wounds in the affair of Cuddyboram, he would have told 
something that might have thrown light upon the inconsist- 


GUY MANN BRING 


143 


encies of this singular man’s character. He repeated to me 
more than once, ‘I have that to say, which will alter your 
hard opinion of our late Colonel.’ But death pressed him 
too hard ; and if he owed me any atonement, which some 
of his expressions seemed to imply, he died before it could 5 
be made. 

“I propose to make a further excursion through this 
country while this fine frosty weather serves, and Dudley, 
almost as good a walker as myself, goes with me for some 
part of the way. We part on the borders of Cumberland, 10 
when he must return to his lodgings in Marybone, up three 
pair of stairs, and labor at what he calls the commercial part 
of his profession. 

“When I lose Dudley’s company, I am informed that I 
can easily enter Scotland by stretching across a wild country 15 
in the upper part of Cumberland; and that route I shall 
follow, to give the Colonel time to pitch his camp ere I 
reconnoitre his position. — Adieu ! Delaserre — I shall hardly 
find another opportunity of writing till I reach Scotland.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


Jog on, jog on, the footpath way,° 

And merrily hent the stile-a : 

A merry heart goes all the day, 

Your sad tires in a mile-a. 

Winter's Tale. 

Let the reader conceive to himself a clear frosty November 
morning, the scene an open heath, having for the background 
that huge chain of mountains in which Skiddaw and Saddle- 
back are preeminent ; let him look along that blind road, by 
S which I mean the track so slightly marked by the passengers’ 
footsteps that it can but be traced by a slight shade of verdure 
from the dark heath around it, and, being only visible to 
the eye when at some distance, ceases to be distinguished 
while the foot is actually treading it — along this faintly- 
io traced path advances the object of our present narrative. 
His firm step, his erect and free carriage, have a military air, 
which corresponds well with his well-proportioned limbs, and 
stature of six feet high. His dress is so plain and simple that 
it indicates nothing as to rank — it may be that of a gentleman 
15 who travels in this manner for his pleasure, or of an inferior 
person of whom it is the proper and usual garb. Nothing 
can be on a more reduced scale than his travelling equipment. 
A volume of Shakespeare in each pocket, a small bundle with 
a change of linen slung across his shoulders, an oaken cudgel 
144 


GUY M ANNE RING 


145 


in his hand, complete our pedestrian’s accommodations, and 
in this equipage we present him to our readers. 

Brown had parted that morning from his friend Dudley, 
and began his solitary walk towards Scotland. 

The first two or three miles were rather melancholy, from 5 
want of the society to which he had of late been accustomed. 
But this unusual mood of mind soon gave way to the in- 
fluence of his natural good spirits, excited by the exercise 
and the bracing effects of the frosty air. He whistled as 
he went along, not “from want of thought,” but to give 10 
vent to those buoyant feelings which he had no other mode 
of expressing. 

Part of Brown’s view in choosing that unusual tract which 
leads through the eastern walls of Cumberland into Scotland, 
had been a desire to view the remains of the celebrated 15 
Roman Wall, 0 which are more visible in that direction than 
in any other part of ita extent. His education had been 
imperfect and desultory; but neither the busy scenes in 
which he had been engaged, nor the pleasures of youth, 
nor the precarious state of his own circumstances, had 20 
diverted him from the task of mental improvement. — “And 
this then is the Roman Wall,” he said, scrambling up to a 
height which commanded the course of that celebrated work 
of antiquity: “What a people I whose labors, even at this 
extremity of their empire, comprehended such space, and 25 
were executed upon a scale of such grandeur! In future 
ages, when the science of war shall have changed, how few 
traces will exist of the labors of Vauban and Coehorn, 0 
while this wonderful people’s remains will even then con- 
tinue to interest and astonish posterity ! Their fortifica- 30 
tions, their aqueducts, their theatres, . their fountains, all 
their public works, bear the grave, solid, and majestic char- 
acter of their language; while our modern labors, like our 
L 


146 


GUY M ANNE RING 


modern tongues, seem but constructed out of their frag- 
ments.” Having thus moralized, he remembered that he 
was hungry, and pursued his walk to a small public-house 
at which he proposed to get some refreshment. 

5 The alehouse, for it was no better, was situated in the 
bottom of a little dell, through which trilled a small rivulet. 
The outside of the house promised little for the interior, 
notwithstanding the vaunt of a sign, where a tankard of ale 
voluntarily decanted itself into a tumbler, and a hieroglyphi- 
iocal° scrawl below attempted to express a promise of “good 
entertainment for man and horse.” Brown was no fastidious 
traveller — he stooped and entered the cabaret. 0 

The first object which caught his eye in the kitchen was a 
tall, stout, country-looking man, in a large jockey great-coat. 
1 5 A large tankard of ale flanked his plate of victuals, to which 
he applied himself by intervals. The good woman of the 
house was employed in baking. The fire, as is usual in 
that country, was on a stone hearth, in the midst of an im- 
mensely large chimney, w r hich had two seats extended beneath 
20 the vent. On one of these sat a remarkably tall woman, 
in a red cloak and slouched bonnet, having the appearance 
of a tinker or beggar. She was busily engaged with a short 
black tobacco-pipe. 

• At the request of Brown for some food, the landlady wiped 
25 with her mealy apron one corner of the deal table, placed a 
wooden trencher and knife and fork before the traveller, 
pointed to the round of beef, recommended Mr. Dinmont’s 
good example, and, finally, filled a brown pitcher with her 
home-brewed. Brown lost no time in doing ample credit 
30 to both. For a while, his opposite neighbor and he were 
too busy to take much notice of each other, except by a 
good-humored nod as each in turn raised the tankard to 
his head. At length, when our pedestrian began to supply 


GUY MANNERING 


147 


the wants of little Wasp, the Scotch store-farmer, for such 
was Mr. Dinmont, found himself at leisure to enter into 
conversation. 

“A bonny terrier that, sir — and a fell chield at the vermin, 

I warrant him — that is, if he’s been weel entered, for it a’ 5 
lies in that.” 

“Really, sir,” said Brown, “his education has been some- 
what neglected, and his chief property is being a pleasant 
companion.” 

“Ay, sir? that’s a pity, begging your pardon — it’s a great 10 
pity that — beast or body, education should aye be minded. 

I have six terriers at hame, forbye twa couple of slow-hunds, 
five grews, and a wheen other dogs. There’s auld Pepper and 
auld Mustard, and young Pepper and young Mustard, and 
little Pepper and little Mustard — I had them a’ regularly 15 
entered, first wi’ rottens — then wi’ stots or weasels — and 
then wi’ the tods and brocks — and now they fear naething 
that ever cam wi’ a hairy skin on’t.” 

‘ ‘ I have no doubt, sir, they are thoroughbred — but, to 
have so many dogs, you seem to have a very limited variety 20 
of names for them?” 

“Oh, that’s a fancy o’ my ain to mark the breed, sir; the 
Deuke himsell has sent as far as Charlies-hope to get ane o’ 
Dandie Dinmont’s Pepper and Mustard terriers — Lord, 
man, he sent Tam Hudson 1 the keeper, and sicken a day as 25 
we had wi’ the foumarts and the tods, and sicken a blythe 
gaedown as we had again e’en ! Faith, that was a night !” 

“I suppose game is very plenty with you?” 

“Plenty, man! — I believe there’s mair hares than sheep 
on my farm ; and for the moor-fowl, or the gray-fowl, they 30 
lie as thick as doos in a dooket — Did ye ever shoot a black- 
cock, man?” 

1 The real name of this veteran sportsman is now restored. 


148 


GUY MANNERING 


“Really I had never the pleasure to see one, except in the 
museum at Keswick.” 

“There now — I could guess that by your Southland 
tongue — It’s very odd of these English folk that come 
5 here, how few of them has seen a black-cock! I’ll tell you 
what — ye seem to be an honest lad, and if you’ll call on 
me — on Dandie Dinmont — at Charlies-hope — ■ ye shall 
see a black-cock, and shoot a black-cock, and eat a black- 
cock too, man.” 

io “Why, the proof of the matter is the eating, to be sure, 
sir; and I shall be happy if I can find time to accept your 
invitation.” 

“Time, man? what ails ye to gae hame wi’ me the now? 
How d’ye travel ? ” 

is “On foot, sir; and if that handsome pony be yours, I 
should find it impossible to keep up with you.” 

“No unless ye can walk up to fourteen mile an hour. But 
ye can come ower the night as far as Riccarton, where there 
is a public — or if ye like to stop at Jockey Grieve’s at the 

20 Heuch, they would be blythe to see ye, and I am just gaun to 
stop and drink a dram at the door wi’ him, and I would tell 
him you’re coming up — or stay — gudewife, could ye lend 
this gentleman the gudeman’s galloway, and I’ll send it ower 
the Waste in the morning wi’ the callant?” 

2 5 The galloway was turned out upon the fell, and was swear 
to catch — “Aweel, aweel, there’s nae help for’t, but come up 
the morn at ony rate. — And now, gudewife, I maun ride, to 
get to the Liddel or it be dark, for your Waste has but a 
kittle character, ye ken y.oursell.” 

30 “Hout fie, Mr. Dinmont, that’s no like you, to gie the 
country an ill name — I wot, there has been nane stirred in 
the Waste since Sawney Culloch, the travelling-merchant, that 
Rowley Overdees and Jock Penny suffered for at Carlisle twa 


GUY M ANNE RING 


149 


years since. There’s no ane in Bewcastle would do the like 
o’ that now — we be a’ true folk now.” 

“Ay, Tib, that will be when the deil’s blind, — and his een’s 
no sair yet. But hear ye, gudewife, I have been through 
maist feck o’ Galloway and Dumfriesshire, and I have been 5 
round by Carlisle, and I was at the Staneshiebank fair the 
day, and I would like ill to be rubbit sae near hame, so I’ll 
take the gate.” 

“Haa ye been in Dumfries and Galloway 1 ?” said the old 
dame, who sate smoking by the fireside, and who had not yet 10 
spoken a word. 

“Troth have I, gudewife, and a weary round I’ve had o’t.” 

“Then ye’ll maybe ken a place they ca’ Ellangowan?” 

“Ellangowan, that was Mr. Bertram’s — I ken the place 
weel eneugh. The laird died about a fortnight since, as I 15 
heard.” 

“Died!” — said the old woman, dropping her pipe, and 
rising and coming forward upon the floor — “died? — are 
you sure of that?” 

“Troth, am I,” said Dinmont, “for it made nae sma’ noise 20 
in the country-side. He died just at the roup of the stocking 
and furniture; it stoppit the roup, and mony folk were dis- 
appointed. They said he was the last of an auld family too, 
and mony were sorry — for gude blude’s scarcer in Scotland 
than it has been.” 25 

“Dead!” replied the old woman, whom our readers have 
already recognized as their acquaintance Meg Merrilies — 
“dead ! that quits a’ scores. And did ye say he died without 
an heir?” 

“Ay did he, gudewife, and the estate’s sell’d by the same 30 
token ; for they said, they couldna have sell’d it, if there had 
been an heir-male.” 

“Sell’d !” echoed the gypsy, with something like a scream ; 


150 


GUY MANNERING 


“ and wha durst buy Ellangowan that was not of Bertram’s 
blude? — and wha could tell whether the bonny knave-bairn 
may not come back to claim his ain ! — wha durst buy the 
estate and the castle of Ellangowan?” 

5 “Troth, gudewife, just ane o’ thae writer chields that buys 
a’ thing — they ca’ him Glossin, I think.” 

“Glossin! — Gibbie Glossin! — that I have carried in my 
creels a hundred times, for his mother wasna muckle better 
than mysell — *he to presume to buy the barony of Ellan- 
io gowan ! — Gude be wi’ us — it is an awfu’ warld ! — I wished 
him ill — but no sic a downfa’ as a’ that neither — wae’s me ! 
wae’s me to think o’t ! ” — She remained a moment silent, 
but still opposing with her hand the farmer’s retreat, who, 
betwixt every question, was about to turn his back, but good- 
1 5 humoredly stopped on observing the deep interest his answers 
appeared to excite. 

“It will be seen and heard of — earth and sea will not hold 
this peace langer ! — Can ye say if the same man be now the 
Sheriff of the county, that has been sae for some years past ? ” 
20 “Na, he’s got some other berth in Edinburgh, they say — 
but gude day, gudewife, I maun ride.” She followed him to 
his horse, and, while he drew the girths of his saddle, adjusted 
the valise, and put on the bridle, still plied him with questions 
concerning Mr. Bertram’s death, and the fate of his daughter ; 
2 5 on which, however, she could obtain little information from 
the honest farmer. 

“Did you ever see a place they ca’ Derncleugh, about a mile 
frae the place of Ellangowan ? ” 

“I wot weel have I, gudewife, — a wild-looking den it is, 
30 wi’a whin auld wa’s o’ shealings yonder — I saw it when I 
gaed ower the ground wi’ ane that wanted to take the farm.” 

“It was a blythe bit ance ! ” said Meg, speaking to herself — 
“Did ye notice if there was an auld saugh tree that’s maist 


GUY MANNERING 


151 


blawn down, but yet its roots are in the earth, and it hangs 
ower the bit burn — mony a day hae I wrought my stocking, 
and sat on my sunkie under that saugh.” 

“Hout, deil’s i’ the wife, wi’ her saugh's, and her sunkies, 
and Ellangowans — Godsake, woman, let me away — there’s s 
saxpence t’ye to buy half a mutchkin, 0 instead o’ clavering 
about thae auld-warld stories.” 

“Thanks to ye, gudeman — and now ye hae answered a’ 
my questions, and never speired wherefore I asked them, I’ll 
gie you a bit canny advice, and ye maunna speir what for io 
neither. Tib Mumps will be out wi’ the stirrup-dram in a 
gliffing — She’ll ask ye whether ye gang ower Willie’s brae, or 
through Conscowthart moss — tell her ony ane ye like, but 
be sure (speaking low and emphatically) to tak the ane ye 
dinna tell her.” The farmer laughed and promised, and the 15 
gypsy retreated. 

“Will you take her advice?” said Brown, who had been 
an attentive listener to this conversation. 

“That will I no — the randy quean! — Na, I had far 
rather Tib Mumps kenn’d which way I was gaun than her — 20 
though Tib’s no muckle to lippen to neither, and I would 
advise ye on no account to stay in the house a’ night.” 

In a moment *after, Tib, the landlady, appeared with her 
stirrup-cup, which was taken off. She then, as Meg had pre- 
dicted, inquired whether he went the hill or the moss road. 25 
He answered, the latter; and, having bid Brown good-bye, 
and again told him, “he depended on seeing him at Charlies- 
hope, the morn at latest,” he rode off at a round pace. 


•CHAPTER XXIII 


Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway.® 

Winter’s Tale. 

The hint of the hospitable farmer was not lost on Brown. 
But, while he paid his reckoning, he could not avoid re- 
peatedly fixing his eyes on Meg Merrilies. At present, she 
stood by the window of the cottage, her pers9n drawn up 
5 so as to show to full advantage her masculine stature, and 
her head somewhat thrown back, that the large bonnet, with 
which her face was shrouded, might not interrupt her steady 
gaze at Brown. At every gesture he made, and every tone 
he uttered, she seemed to give an almost imperceptible start, 
io On his part, he was surprised to find that he could not look 
upon this' singular figure without some emotion. “Have I 
dreamed of such a figure?” he said to himself, “or does 
this wild and singular-looking woman recall to my recollec- 
tion some of the strange figures L have seen in our Indian 
1 5 pagodas ? ” ° ♦ 

While he embarrassed himself with these discussions, and 
the hostess was engaged in rummaging out silver in change 
of half-a-guinea, the gypsy suddenly made two strides, and 
seized Brown’s hand. He expected, of course, a display of her 
20 skill in palmistry, but she seemed agitated by other feelings. 
“Tell me,” she said, “tell me, in the name of God, young 
man, what is your name, and whence you came ? ” 

“My name is Brown, mother, and I come from the East 
Indies.” 


152 


GUY M ANNE RING 


153 


“From the East Indies!” dropping his hand with a sigh ; 
“it cannot be then — I am such an auld fool, that every- 
thing I look on seems the thing I want maist to see. But 
the East Indies ! that cannot be — Weel, be what ye will, ye 
hae a face and a tongue that puts me in mind of auld times. 5 
Good-day — make haste on your road, and if ye see ony of 
our folk, meddle not and make not, and they’ll do you nae 
harm.” 

Brown, who by this time had received his change, put a 
shilling into her hand, bade his hostess farewell, and, taking 10 
the route which the farmer had gone before, walked briskly 
on, with the advantage of being guided by the fresh hoof- 
prints of his horse. Meg Merrilies looked after him for 
some time, and then muttered to herself, “I maun see that 
lad again — and I maun gang back to Ellangowan too. — The 15 
Laird’s dead — aweel, death pays a’ scores — he was a kind 
man ance. — The Sheriff’s flitted, and I can keep canny in 
the bush — so there’s no muckle hazard o’ scouring the 
cramp-ring. 1 — I would like to see bonny Ellangowan again 
or I die.” 20 

Brown, meanwhile, proceeded northward at a round pace 
along the moorish tract called the Waste of Cumberland. He 
passed a solitary house, towards which the horseman who 
preceded him had apparently turned up, for his horse’s tread 
was evident in that direction. A little farther, he seemed to 25 
have returned again into the road. Mr. Dinmont had prob- 
ably made a visit there either of business or pleasure — I 
wish, thought Brown, the good farmer had staid till I came 
up ; I should not have been sorry to ask him a few questions 
about the road, which seems to grow wilder and wilder. 30 

Choosing his steps with care and deliberation, the young 

1 To scour the cramp-ring, is said metaphorically for being 
thrown into fetters, or, generally, into prison. 


154 


GUY M ANNE RING 


officer proceeded along a path that sometimes sunk between 
two broken black banks of moss earth, sometimes crossed 
narrow but deep ravines filled with a consistence between mud 
and water, and sometimes along heaps of gravel and stones, 
5 which had been swept together when some torrent or water- 
spout from the neighboring hills overflowed the marshy 
ground below. He began to ponder how a horseman could 
make his way through such broken ground; the traces of 
hoofs, however, were still visible; he even thought he heard 
io their sound at some distance, and, convinced that Mr. Din- 
mont’s progress through the morass must be still slower than 
his own, he resolved to push on, in hopes to overtake him, 
and have the benefit of his knowledge of the country. At 
this moment his little terrier sprung forward, barking most 
is furiously. 

Brown quickened his pace, and, attaining the summit of a 
small rising ground, saw the subject of the dog’s alarm. . In 
a hollow about a gunshot below him, a man, whom he easily 
recognized to be Dinmont, was engaged with two others in 
20 a desperate struggle. He was dismounted, and defending 
himself as he best could with the butt of his heavy whip. 
Our traveller hastened on to his assistance ; but, ere he could 
get up, a stroke had levelled the farmer with the earth, and 
one of the robbers, improving his victory, struck him some 
25 merciless blows on the head. The other villain, hastening to 
meet Brown, called to his companion to come along, “for 
that one’s content,” meaning, probably, past resistance or 
complaint. One ruffian was armed with a cutlass, the other 
with a bludgeon; but as the road was pretty narrow, “bar 
30 firearms,” thought Brown, “and I may manage them well 
enough.” They met accordingly, with the most murderous 
threats on the part of the ruffians. They soon found, how- 
ever, that their new opponent was equally stout and resolute ; 


GUY M ANNE RING 


155 


and, after exchanging two or three blows, one of them told 
him to “follow his nose over the heath, in the devil’s name, 
for they had nothing to say to him.” 

Brown rejected this composition, as leaving to their mercy 
the unfortunate man whom they were about to pillage, if not 5 
to murder outright ; and the skirmish had just recommenced, 
when Dinmont unexpectedly recovered his senses, his feet, 
and his weapon, and hasted to the scene of action. As he 
had been no easy antagonist, even when surprised and alone, 
the villains did not choose to wait his joining forces with a io 
man who had singly proved a match for them both, but fled 
across the bog as fast as their feet could carry them, pursued 
by Wasp, who had acted gloriously during the skirmish, 
annoying the heels of the enemy, and repeatedly effecting a 
moment’s diversion in his master’s favor. 15 

“Deil, but your dog’s weel entered wi’ the vermin now, 
sir !” were the first words uttered by the jolly farmer, as he 
came up, his head streaming with blood, and recognized his 
deliverer and his little attendant. 

“I hope, sir, you are not hurt dangerously ? ” 20 

“Oh, deil a bit — my head can stand a gey clour — nae 
thanks to them, though, and mony to you. But now, hinney, 
ye maun help me to catch the beast, and ye maun get on 
behind me, for we maun off like whittrets before the whole 
clan jamf ray be doun upon us — the rest o’ them will be no 25 
far off.” The galloway was, by good fortune, easily caught, 
and Brown made some apology for overloading the animal. 

“Deil a fear, man,” answered the proprietor, “Dumple 
could carry six folk, if his back was lang eneugh — but God’s 
sake, haste ye, get on, for I see some folk coming through the 30 
slack yonder, that it may be just as weel no to wait for.” 

Brown was of opinion that this apparition of five or six 
men, with whom the other villains seemed to join company, 


156 


GUY MANNERING 


coming across the moss towards them, should abridge cere- 
mony ; he therefore mounted Dumple en croupe, and the little 
spirited nag cantered away with two men of great size and 
strength, as if they had been children of six years old. The 
5 rider, to whom the paths of these wilds seemed intimately 
known, pushed on at a rapid pace, managing, with much 
dexterity, to choose the safest route, in which he was aided 
by the sagacity of the galloway, who never failed to take 
the difficult passes exactly at the particular spot, and in 
iothe special manner, by which they could be most safely 
crossed. 

They speedily gained a sort of rugged causeway so called, 
being the remains of an old Roman road, which traverses 
these wild regions in a due northerly direction. Here they 
is got on at the rate of nine or ten miles an hour, Dumple seeking 
no other respite than what arose from changing his pace from 
canter to trot. “I could gar him show mair action,” said 
his master, “but we are twa lang-legged chields after a’, and 
it would be a pity to stress Dumple — there wasna the like 
20 o’ him at Staneshiebank fair the day.” 

Brown readily assented to the propriety of sparing the 
horse, and. added, that as they were now far out of reach 
of the rogues, he thought Mr. Dinmont had better tie a hand- 
kerchief round his head, for fear of the cold frosty air aggravat- 
25 ing the wound. 

“What would I do that for?” answered the hardy farmer; 
“the best way’s to let the blood barken upon the cut — that 
saves plasters, hinney.” 

Brown, who in his military profession had seen a great 
3 o many hard blows pass, could not help remarking, “he had 
never known such severe strokes received with so much ap- 
parent indifference.” 

“Hout tout, man — I would never be making a hum- 


GUY MANNERING 


157 


dudgeon about a scart on the pow — but we’ll be in Scotland 
in five minutes now, and ye maun gang up to Charlies-hope 
wi’ me, that’s a clear case.” 

Brown readily accepted the offered hospitality. Night was 
now falling, when they came in sight of a pretty river winding 5 
its way through a pastoral country. The hills were greener 
and more abrupt than those which Brown had lately passed, 
sinking their grassy sides at once upon the river. They had 
no pretensions to magnificence of height, or to romantic 
shapes, nor did their smooth swelling slopes exhibit either 10 
rocks or woods. Yet the view was wild, solitary, and pleas- 
ingly rural. 

Descending by a path towards a well-known ford, Dumple 
crossed the small river, and then quickening his pace, trotted 
about a mile briskly up its banks, and approached two or 15 
three low thatched houses, placed with their angles to each 
other, with a great contempt of regularity. This was the 
farm-steading of Charlies-hope, or, in the language of the 
country, “the Town.” A most furious barking was set up 
at their approach, by the whole three generations of Mustard 20 
and Pepper, and a number of allies, names unknown. The 
farmer made his well-known voice lustily heard to restore 
order — the door opened, and a half-dressed ewe-milker, who 
had done that good office, shut it in their faces, in order that 
she might run ben the house, to cry “Mistress, mistress, it’s 25 
the master, and another man wi’ him.” Dumple, turned 
loose, walked to his own stable-door, and there pawed and 
whinnied for admission, in strains which were answered by 
his acquaintances from the interior. Amid this bustle, 
Brown was fain to secure Wasp from the other dogs, who, 30 
with ardor corresponding more to their own names than to 
the hospitable temper of their owner, were much disposed to 
use the intruder roughly. 


158 


GUY M ANNE RING 


In about a minute a stout laborer was patting Dumple, 
and introducing him into the stable, while Mrs. Dinmont, a 
well-favored buxom dame, welcomed her husband with un- 
feigned rapture. “Eh, sirs! gudeman, ye hae been a weary 
5 while away ! ” 

The author may here remark, that the character of Dandie 
Dinmont was drawn from no individual. A dozen, at 
least, of stout Liddesdale yeomen with whom he has been 
acquainted, and whose hospitality he has shared in his rambles 
io through that wild country, at a time when it was totally 
inaccessible save in the manner described in the text, might 
lay claim to be the prototype of a rough, but faithful, hos- 
pitable, and generous farmer. But one circumstance occa- 
sioned the name to be fixed upon a most respectable 
15 individual of this class, now no more. Mr. James Davidson 
of Hindlee, a tenant of Lord Douglas, besides the points of 
blunt honesty, personal strength, and hardihood, designed 
to be expressed in the character of Dandie Dinmont, had the 
humor of naming a celebrated race of terriers which he 
20 possessed, by the generic names of Mustard and Pepper 
(according as their color was yellow, or grayish-black), without 
any other individual distinction, except as according to the 
nomenclature in the text. Mr. Davidson resided at Hindlee, 
a wild farm, on the very edge of the Teviotdale mountains, 
25 and bordering close on Liddesdale, where the rivers and 
brooks divide as they take their course to the Eastern and 
Western seas. His passion for the chase, in all its forms, 
but especially for fox-hunting, as followed in the fashion 
described in the next chapter, in conducting which he was 
30 skilful beyond most men in the South Highlands, was the 
distinguishing point in his character. 

When the tale on which these comments are written be- 
came rather popular, the name of Dandie Dinmont was 
generally given to him, which Mr. Davidson received with 
35 great good humor, only saying, while he distinguished the 
author by the name applied to him in the country, where 
his own is so common — “that the Sheriff had not written 
about him mair than about other folk, but only about his 
dogs.” An English lady of high rank and fashion being 


GUY M ANNE RING 


159 


desirous to possess a brace of the celebrated Mustard and 
Pepper terriers, expressed her wishes in a letter, which was 
literally addressed to Dandie Dinmont, under which very 
general direction it reached Mr. Davidson, who was justly 
proud of the application, and failed not to comply with a 5 
request which did him and his favorite attendants so much 
honor. 

I trust I shall not be considered as offending the memory 
of a kind and worthy man, if I mention a little trait of char- 
acter which occurred in Mr. Davidson’s last illness. I use io 
the words of the excellent clergyman who attended him, 
who gave the account to a reverend gentleman of the same 
persuasion : — 

“I read to Mr. Davidson the very suitable and interesting 
truths you addressed to him. He listened to them with is 
great seriousness, and has uniformly displayed a deep concern 
about his soul’s salvation. He died on the first Sabbath 
of the year ( 1820 ) ; an apoplectic stroke deprived him in an 
instant of all sensation, but happily his brother was at his 
bed-side, for he had detained him from the meeting-house 20 
that day to be near him, although he felt himself not much 
worse than usual. — So you have got the last little Mustard 
that the hand of Dandie Dinmont bestowed. 

“His ruling passion was strong even on the eve of death. 
Mr. Baillie’s fox-hounds had started a fox opposite to his 25 
window a few weeks ago, and as soon as he heard the sound 
of the dogs, his eyes glistened ; he insisted on getting out of 
bed, and with much difficulty got to the window, and there 
enjoyed the fun, as he called it. When I came down to ask 
for him, he said, ‘ he had seen Reynard, but had not seen his 30 
death. If it had been the will of Providence,’ he added, ‘I 
would have liked to have been after him ; but I am glad that I 
got to the window, and am thankful for what I saw, for it has 
done me a great deal of good.’ Notwithstanding these 
eccentricities (adds the sensible and liberal clergyman), 1 35 
sincerely hope and believe he has gone to a better world, 
and better company and enjoyments.” 

If some part of this little narrative may excite a smile, 
it is one which is consistent with the most perfect respect 
for the simple minded invalid, and his kind and judicious 4° 
religious instructor, who, we hope, will not be displeased 


160 


GUY MANNERING 


with our giving, we trust, a correct edition of an anecdote 
which has been pretty generally circulated. The race of 
Pepper and Mustard are in the highest estimation at this day, 
not only for vermin-killing, but for intelligence and fidelity. 

5 Those who, like the author, possess a brace of them, consider 
them as very desirable companions. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


Liddell till now, except in Doric lays, 0 
Tuned to her murmurs by her love-sick swains, 

Unknown in song — though not a purer stream 
Rolls towards the western main. 

Art of Preserving Health. 

“Deil’s in the wife,” said Dandie Dinmont, shaking off his 
spouse’s embrace, but gently and with a look of great affec- 
tion ; — “deil’s in ye, Ailie — d’ye no see the stranger gentle- 
man?” 

Ailie turned to make her apology — “Troth, I was sae weel 5 
pleased to see the gudeman, that — But, gude gracious ! 
what’s the matter wi’ ye baith ?” — for they were now in her 
little parlor, and the candle showed the streaks of blood which 
Dinmont’s wounded head had plentifully imparted to the 
clothes of his companion as well as to his own. “Ye’ve been ic 
fighting again, Dandie, wi’ some o’ the Bewcastle horse- 
coupers ! Wow, man, a married man, wi’ a bonny family like 
yours, should ken better what a father’s life’s worth in the 
warld.” — The tears stood in the good woman’s eyes as she 
spoke. *5 

“Whisht! whisht! gudewife,” said her husband, with a 
smack that had much more affection than ceremony in it; 
“Never mind — never mind — there’s a gentleman that will 
tell you, that just when I had ga’en up to Lourie Lowther’s, and 
had bidden the drinking of twa cheerers, and gotten just in 20 
again upon the moss, and was whigging cannily awa hame, 
twa land-loupers° jumpit out of a peat-hag on me as I was 

161 


M 


162 


GUY MANNERING 


thinking, and got me down, and knevelled me sair aneuch, or 
I could gar my whip walk about their lugs — and troth, gude- 
wife, if this honest gentleman hadna come up, I would have 
gotten mair licks than I like, and lost mair siller than I could 
5 weel spare ; so ye maun be thankful to him for it, under God.” 
With that he drew from his side-pocket a large greasy leather 
pocket-book, and bade the gudewife lock it up in her kist. 

“God bless the gentleman, and e’en God bless him wi’ a’ 
my heart — but what can we do for him, but to gie him the 
i o meat and quarters we wadna refuse to the poorest body on 
earth — unless (her eye directed to the pocket-book, but with 
a feeling of natural propriety which made the inference the 

most delicate possible), unless there was ony other way ” 

Brown saw, and estimated at its due rate, the mixture of sim- 
15 plicity and grateful generosity which took the downright way 
of expressing itself, yet qualified with so much delicacy; he 
was aware his own appearance, plain at best, and now torn 
and spattered with blood, made him an object of pity at 
least, and perhaps of charity. He hastened to say his name 
20 was Brown, a captain in the regiment of cavalry, travel- 

ling for pleasure, and on foot, both from motives of independ- 
ence and economy; and he begged his kind landlady would 
look at her husband’s wounds, the state of which he had 
refused to permit him to examine. Mrs. Dinmont was used 
25 to her husband’s broken heads more than to the presence of 
a captain of dragoons. She therefore glanced at a table-cloth 
not quite clean, and conned over her proposed supper a 
minute or two, before, patting her husband on the shoulder, 
she bade him sit down for “a hard-headed loon, that was aye 
30 bringing himsell and other folk into collie-shangies.” 

When Dandie Dinmont, after executing two or three cap- 
rioles, 0 and cutting the Highland fling, by way of ridicule of 
his wife’s anxiety, at last deigned to sit down, and commit his 


GUY M ANNE RING 


163 


round, black, shaggy bullet of a head to her inspection, 
Brown thought he had seen the regimental surgeon look grave 
upon a more trifling case. The gudewife, however, showed 
some knowledge of chirurgery 0 — she cut away with her 
scissors the gory locks, whose stiffened and coagulated clusters 5 
interfered with her operations, and ' clapped on the wound 
some lint besmeared with a vulnerary 0 salve, esteemed 
sovereign by the whole dale (which afforded upon Fair nights 
considerable experience of such cases) • — she then fixed her 
plaster with a bandage, and, spite of her patient’s resistance, 10 
pulled over all a night-cap, to keep everything in its right 
place. Some contusions on the brow and shoulders she 
fomented with brandy, which the patient did not permit 
till the medicine had paid a heavy toll to his mouth. Mrs. 
Dinmont then simply, but kindly, offered her assistance to 1 5 
Brown. 

He assured her he had no occasion for anything but the 
accommodation of a basin and towel. 

“And that’s what I should have thought of sooner,” she 
said; “and I did think o’t, but I durst na open the/door, 20 
for there’s a’ the bairns, poor things, sae keen to see their 
father.” 

This explained a great drumming and whining at the door 
of the little parlor, which had somewhat surprised Brown, 
though his kind landlady had only noticed it by fastening the 25 
bolt as soon as she heard it begin. But on her opening the 
door to seek the basin and towel (for she never thought of 
showing the guest to a separate room), a whole tide of white- 
headed urchins streamed in, some from the stable, where they 
had been seeing Dumple, and giving him a welcome home 30 
with part of their four-hours scones, 0 others from the kitchen, 
where they had been listening to auld Elspeth’s tales and 
ballads ; and the youngest half-naked, out of bed, all roaring 


164 


GUY MANNERING 


to see daddy, and to inquire what he had brought home for 
them from the various fairs he had visited in his peregrina- 
tions. Our knight of the broken head first kissed and hugged 
them all round, then distributed whistles, penny-trumpets, 
S and ginger-bread, and, lastly, when the tumult of their joy 
and welcome got beyond bearing, exclaimed to his guest — 
‘‘This is a’ the gudewife’s fault, captain — she will gie the 
bairns a’ their ain way.” 

“Me! Lord help me,” said Ailie, who at that instant 
xo entered with the basin and ewer, “how can I help it? — I 
have naething else to gie them, poor things !” 

Dinmont then exerted himself, and, between coaxing, 
threats, and shoving, cleared the room of all the intruders, 
excepting a boy and girl, the two eldest of the family, who 
15 could, as he observed, behave themselves “distinctly.” For 
the same reason, but with less ceremony, all the dogs were 
kicked out, excepting the venerable patriarchs, old Pepper and 
Mustard, whom frequent castigation and the advance of 
years had inspired with such a share of passive hospitality, 
20 that, after mutual explanation and remonstrance in the shape 
of some growling, they admitted Wasp, who had hitherto 
judged it safe to keep beneath his master’s chair, to a share 
of a dried wedder’s skin, which, with the wool uppermost 
and unshorn, served all the purposes of a Bristol hearth-rug. 
25 The active bustle of the mistress (so she was called in the 
kitchen, and the gudewife in the parlor) had already signed 
the fate of a couple of fowls, which, for want of time to dress 
them otherwise, soon appeared reeking from the gridiron — or 
brander, as Mrs. Dinmont denominated it. A huge piece of 
30 cold beef-ham, eggs, butter, cakes, and barley-meal bannocks 0 
in plenty, made up the entertainment, which was to be diluted 
with home-brewed ale of excellent quality, and a case-bottle 
of brandy. Few soldiers would find fault with such cheer 


GUY M ANNE RING 


165 


after a day’s hard exercise, and a skirmish to boot; accord- 
ingly Brown did great honor to the eatables. 

Some desultory conversation served as a “shoeing-horn” 
to draw on another cup of ale and another cheerer, as Din- 
mont termed it in his country phrase, of brandy and water. 5 
Brown then resolutely declined all further conviviality for 
that evening, pleading his own weariness and the effects of 
the skirmish, — being well aware that it would have availed 
nothing to have remonstrated with his host on the danger 
that excess might have occasioned to his own raw wound 10 
and bloody coxcomb. 0 A very small bedroom, but a very 
clean bed, received the traveller, and the sheets made good 
the courteous vaunt of the hostess, “that they would be as 
pleasant as he could find ony gate, for they were washed 
wi’ the fairy-well water, and bleached on the bonny white 15 
gowans, and bittled by Nelly and hersell, and what could 
woman, if she was a queen, do mair for them ? ” 

They indeed rivalled snow in whiteness, and had, besides, 
a pleasant fragrance from the manner in which they had been 
bleached. Little Wasp, after licking his master’s hand to ask 20 
leave, couched himself on the coverlet at his feet; and the 
traveller’s senses were soon lost in grateful oblivion. 


CHAPTER XXV 


— Give ye, Britons, ° then 

Your sportive fury, pitiless to pour 

Loose on the nightly robber of the fold. 

Him from his craggy winding haunts unearth’d, 

Let all the thunder of the chase pursue. 

Thomson’s Seasons. 

Brown rose early in the morning, and walked out to look 
at the establishment of his new friend. All was rough and 
neglected in the neighborhood of the house ; — a paltry 
garden, no pains taken to make the vicinity dry or com- 
5 fortable, and a total absence of all those little neatnesses 
which give the eye so much pleasure in looking at an English 
farmhouse. There were, notwithstanding, evident signs that 
this arose only from want of taste, or ignorance, not from 
poverty, or the negligence which attends it. On the con- 
io trary, a noble cow-house, well filled with good milk-cows, 
a feeding-house, with ten bullocks of the most approved 
breed, a stable, with two good teams of horses, the appear- 
ance of domestics, active, industrious, and apparently con- 
tented with their lot; in a word, an air of liberal though 
15 sluttish plenty indicated the wealthy farmer. At a little 
distance was the whole band of children, playing and building 
houses with peats around a huge doddered 0 oak-tree, which 
was called Charlie’s Bush, from some tradition respecting an 
old freebooter who had once inhabited the spot. Between 
20 the farmhouse and the hill-pasture was a deep morass, termed 
in that country a slack — it had once been the defence of a 
166 


GUY M ANNE RING 


167 


fortalice, of which no vestiges now remained, but which was 
said to have been inhabited by the same doughty hero we have 
now alluded to. Brown endeavored to make some acquaint- 
ance with the children, but “the rogues fled from him like 
quicksilver” — though the two eldest stood peeping when 5 
they had got to some distance. The traveller then turned 
his course towards the hill, crossing the foresaid swamp by 
a range of stepping-stones, neither the broadest nor steadiest 
that could be imagined. He had not climbed far up the hill 
when he met a man descending. 10 

He soon recognized his worthy host, though a maud, as 
it is called, or a gray shepherd’ s-plaid, supplied his travel- 
ling jockey-coat, and a cap, faced with wild-cat’s fur, more 
commodiously covered his bandaged head than a hat would 
have done. As he appeared through the morning mist, 15 
Brown, accustomed to judge of men by their thews and 
sinews, could not help admiring his height, the breadth of 
his shoulders, and the steady firmness of his step. Dinmont 
internally paid the same compliment to Brown, whose athletic 
form he now perused somewhat more at leisure than he had 20 
done formerly. After the usual greetings of the morning, 
the guest inquired whether his host found any inconvenient 
consequences from the last night’s affray. 

“I had maist forgotten’t,” said the hardy Borderer; “but 
I think this morning, now tha;t I am fresh and sober, if you 25 
and I were at the Withershins’ Latch, wi’ ilka ane a gude oak 
souple in his hand, we wadna turn back, no for half a dizzen 
o’ yon scaff-raff.” 

“But are you prudent, my good sir,” said Brown, “not to 
take an hour or two’s repose after receiving such severe 30 
contusions?” 

“Confusions!” replied the farmer, laughing in derision; 
“Lord, Captain, naething confuses my head — I ance jumped 


168 


GUY M ANNE RING 


up and laid the dogs on the fox after I had tumbled from the 
tap o’ Christenbury Craig, and that might have confused me 
to purpose. Na, naething confuses me, unless it be a screed 
o’ drink at an orra time. Besides, I behooved to be round 
5 the hirsel this morning, and see how the herds were coming 
on — they’re apt to be negligent wi’ their footballs, and fairs, 
and trysts, when ane’s away. And there I met wi’ Tam o’ 
Todshaw, and a wheen o’ the rest o’ the billies on the water 
side ; they’re a’ for a fox-hunt this morning, — ye’ll gang ? 
i o I’ll gie ye Dumple, and take the brood mare my sell.” 

“But I fear I must leave you this morning, Mr. Dinmont,” 
replied Brown. 

“The fient a bit o’ that,” exclaimed the Borderer — “I’ll no 
part wi’ ye at ony rate for a fortnight mair — Na, na ; we dinna 
is meet sic friends as you on a Bewcastle moss every night.” 

Brown had not designed his journey should be a speedy 
one ; he therefore readily compounded with this hearty invita- 
tion, by agreeing to pass a week at Charlies-hope. 

On their return to the house, where the gudewife presided 
20 over an ample breakfast, she heard news of the proposed fox- 
hunt, not indeed with approbation, but without alarm or 
surprise. “Dand! ye’re the auld man yet — naething will 
make ye take warning till ye’re brought hame some day wi’ 
your feet foremost.” 

25 “Tut, lass!” answered Dandie, “ye ken yoursell I am 
never a prin the waur o’ my rambles.” 

So saying, he exhorted Brown to be hasty in despatching 
his breakfast, as, “the frost having given way, the scent would 
lie this morning primely.” 

30 Out they sallied accordingly for Otterscopescaurs, the 
farmer leading the way. They soon quitted the little valley, 
and involved themselves among hills as steep as they could be 
without being precipitous. The sides often presented gullies, 


GUY M ANNE RING 


169 


down which, in the winter season, or after heavy rain, the 
torrents descended with great fury. Some dappled mists still 
floated along the peaks of the hills, the remains of the morning 
clouds, for the frost had broken up with a smart shower. 
Through these fleecy screens were seen a hundred little 5 
temporary streamlets, or rills, descending the sides of the 
mountains like silver threads. By small sheep-tracks along 
these steeps, over which Dinmont trotted with the most fear- 
less confidence, they at length drew near the scene of sport, 
and began to see other men, both on horse and foot, making 10 
toward the place of rendezvous. Brown was puzzling himself 
to conceive how a fox-chase could take place among hills, 
where it was barely possible for a pony, accustomed to the 
ground, to trot along, but where, quitting the track for half a 
yard’s breadth, the rider might be either bogged, or pre-15 
cipitated down the bank. This wonder was not diminished 
when he came to the place of action. 

They had gradually ascended very high, and now found 
themselves on a mountain ridge, overhanging a glen of great 
depth, but extremely narrow. Here the sportsmen had col- 20 
lected, with an apparatus which would have shocked a member 
of the Pychely Hunt; for, the object being the removal of a 
noxious and destructive animal, as well as the pleasures of the 
chase, poor Reynard was allowed much less fair play than 
when pursued in form through an open country. The strength 25 
of his habitation, however, and the nature of the ground by 
which it was surrounded on all sides, supplied what was 
wanting in the courtesy of his pursuers. The sides of the 
glen were broken banks of earth, and rocks of rotten stone, 
which sunk sheer down to the little -winding stream below, 30 
affording here and there a tuft of scathed brushwood, or a 
patch of furze. Along the edges of this ravine, which, as 
we have said, was very narrow, but of profound depth, the 


170 


GUY MANNERING 


hunters on horse and foot ranged themselves ; almost every 
farmer had with him at least a brace of large and fierce grey- 
hounds, of the race of those deer-dogs which were formerly 
used in that country, but greatly lessened in size from being 
5 crossed with the common breed. The huntsman, a sort of 
provincial officer of the district, who receives a certain supply 
of meal, and a reward for every fox he destroys, was already at 
the bottom of the dell, whose echoes thundered to the chiding 
of two or three brace of fox-hounds. Terriers, including 
io the whole generation of Pepper and Mustard, were also in 
attendance, having been sent forward under the care of a 
shepherd. Mongrel, whelp, and cur of low degree, filled up 
the burden of the chorus. The spectators on the brink of the 
ravine, or glen, held their greyhounds in leash in readiness to 
iS slip them at the fox, as soon as the activity of the party 
below should force him to abandon his cover. 

The scene, though uncouth to the eye of a professed sports- 
man, had something in it wildly captivating. The shifting 
figures on the mountain ridge, having the sky for their back- 
20 ground, appeared to move in the air. The dogs, impatient of 
their restraint, and maddened with the baying beneath, sprung 
here and there, and strained at the slips, which prevented 
them from joining their companions. Looking down, the 
view was equally striking. The thin mists were not totally 
2 s dispersed in the glen, so that it was often through their gauzy 
medium that the eye strove to discover the motions of the 
hunters below. Sometimes a breath of wind made the scene 
visible, the blue rill glittering as it twined itself through its 
rude and solitary dell. They then could see the shepherds 
30 springing with fearless activity from one dangerous point to 
another, and cheering the dogs on the scent, the whole so 
diminished by depth and distance that they looked like pyg- 
mies. Again the mists close over them, and the only signs of 


GUY M ANNE RING 


171 


their continued exertions are the halloos of the men, and the 
clamors of the hounds, ascending as it were out of the bowels 
of the earth. When the fox, thus persecuted from one strong- 
hold to another, was at length obliged to abandon his valley, 
and to break away for a more distant retreat, those who 5 
watched his motions from the top slipped their greyhounds, 
which, excelling the fox in swiftness, and equalling him in 
ferocity and spirit, soon brought the plunderer to his life’s end. 

In this way, without any attention to the ordinary rules and 
decorums of sport, but apparently as much to the gratification 10 
both of bipeds and quadrupeds as if all due ritual had been 
followed, four foxes were killed on this active morning ; and 
even Brown himself, though he had seen the princely sports 
of India, and ridden a-tiger-hunting upon an elephant with 
the Nabob of Arcot, professed to have received an excellent 15 
morning’s amusement. When the sport was given up for the 
day, most of the sportsmen, according to the established 
hospitality of the country, went to dine at Charlies-hope. 

During their return homeward, Brown rode for a short time 
beside the huntsman, and asked him some questions concern- 20 
ing the mode in which he exercised his profession. The man 
showed an unwillingness to meet his eye, and a disposition to 
be rid of his company and conversation, for which Brown 
could not easily account. He was a thin, dark, active fellow, 
well framed for the hardy profession which he exercised. But 25 
his face had not the frankness of the jolly hunter; he was 
down-looked, embarrassed, and avoided the eyes of those who 
looked hard at him. After some unimportant observations 
on the success of the day, Brown gave him a trifling gratuity, 
and rode on with his landlord. They found the gudewife pre- 30 
pared for their reception — the fold and the poultry-yard 
furnished the entertainment, and the kind and hearty welcome 
made amends for all deficiencies in elegance and fashion. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


They were a gallant company. 

Ballad of Johnnie Armstrong . 

After a week spent in rural sport, and distinguished by the 
most frank attentions on the part of his honest landlord, 
Brown bade adieu to the banks of the Liddel, and the hospi- 
tality of Charlies-hope. The children, with all of whom he 
5 had now become an intimate and a favorite, roared manfully 
in full chorus at his departure, and he was obliged to promise 
twenty times, that he would soon return and play over all 
their favorite tunes upon the flageolet till they had got them 
by heart. — “Come back again, Captain,” said one little 
io sturdy fellow, “and Jenny will be your wife.” Jenny was 
about eleven years old — she ran and hid herself behind her 
mammy. 

“Captain, come back,” said a little fat roll-about girl of six, 
holding her mouth up to be kissed, “and I’ll be your wife my 
15 ainsell.” 

“They must be of harder mould than I,” thought Brown, 
“who could part from so many kind hearts with indifference.” 
The good dame too, with matron modesty, and an affectionate 
simplicity that marked the olden time, offered her cheek to 
20 the departing guest — “It’s little the like of us can do,” 
she said, “little indeed — but yet — if there were but ony- 
thing ” 


172 


GUY M ANNE RING 


173 


“Now, my dear Mrs. Dinmont, you embolden me to make 
a request — would you but have the kindness to weave me, or 
work me, just such a gray plaid as the goodman wears ?” He 
had learned the language and feelings of the country even 
during the short time of his residence, and was aware of the 5 
pleasure the request would confer. 

“A tait o’ woo’ would be scarce amang us,” said the gude- 
wife, brightening, “if ye shouldna hae that, and as gude a 
tweel as ever cam aff a pirn. I’ll speak to Johnnie Good sire, 
the weaver at the Castletown, the morn. Fare ye weel, sir ! — 10 
and may ye be just as happy yoursell as ye like to see a’ body 
else — and that would be a sair wish to some folk.” 

I must not omit to mention, that our traveller left his trusty 
attendant Wasp to be a guest at Charlies-hope for a season. 
He foresaw that he might prove a troublesome attendant in is 
the event of his being in any situation where secrecy and con- 
cealment might be necessary. He was therefore consigned to 
the care of the eldest boy, who promised, in the words of the 
old song, that he should have 

A bit of his supper, a bit of his bed, 20 

and that he should be engaged in none of those perilous 
pastimes in which the race of Mustard and Pepper had 
suffered frequent mutilation. Brown now prepared for his 
journey, having taken a temporary farewell of his trusty little 
companion. 25 

There is an old prejudice in these hills in favor of riding. 
Every farmer rides well, and rides the whole day. Probably 
the extent of their large pasture farms, and the necessity of 
surveying them rapidly, first introduced this custom; or a 
very zealous antiquary might derive it from the times of the 30 
“Lay of the Last Minstrel,” when twenty thousand horse- 


174 


GUY MANNERING 


men assembled at the light of the beacon-fires . 1 But the 
truth is undeniable; they like to be on horseback, and can 
be with difficulty convinced that any one chooses walking 
from other motives than those of convenience or necessity. 

5 Accordingly, Dimnont insisted upon mounting his guest, 
and accompanying him on horseback as far as the nearest 
town in Dumfriesshire, where he had directed his baggage 
to be sent, and from which he proposed to pursue his in- 
tended journey towards Woodbourne, the residence of Julia 
io Mannering. 

Upon the way he questioned his companion concerning the 
character of the fox-hunter ; but gained little information, as 
he had been called to that office while Dinmont was making 
the round of the Highland fairs. “He was a shake-rag like 
15 fellow/’ he said, “and, he dared to say, had gypsy blood in his 
veins — but at ony rate he was nane o’ the smacks that had 
been on their quarters in the moss — he would ken them weel 
if he saw them again. There are some no bad folk amang 
the gypsies too, to be sic a gang,” added Dandie; “if ever I 
20 see that auld randle-tree of a wife again, I’ll gie her something 
to buy tobacco — I have a great notion she meant me very fair 
after a’.” 

When they were about finally to part, the good farmer held 
Brown long by the hand, and at length said, “Captain, the 
25 woo’s sae weel up the year, that it’s paid a’ the rent, and we 
have naething to do wi’ the rest o’ the siller when Ailie has 
had her new gown, and the bairns their bits o’ duds — now I 

1 It would be affectation to alter this reference. But the 
reader will understand, that it was inserted to keep up the 
author’s incognito, as he was not likely to be suspected of 
quoting his own works. This explanation is also applicable 
to one or two similar passages, in this and the other novels, 
introduced for the same reason. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


175 


was thinking of some safe hand to put it into, for it’s ower 
muckle to ware on brandy and sugar — now I have heard that 
you army gentlemen can sometimes buy yoursells up a step ; 
and if a hundred or twa would help ye on such an occasion, 
the bit scrape o’ your pen would be as good to me as the 5 
siller and ye might just take yere ain time o’ settling it — it 
wad be a great convenience to me.” Brown, who felt the full 
delicacy that wished to disguise the conferring an obligation 
under the show of asking a favor, thanked his grateful friend 
most heartily, and assured him he would have recourse to his 10 
purse, without scruple, should circumstances ever render it 
convenient for him. And thus they parted with many expres- 
sions of mutual regard. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


If thou hast any love of mercy in thee,° 

Turn me upon my face that I may die. 

Joanna Baillie. 

Our traveller hired a post-chaise at the place where he 
separated from Dinmont, with the purpose of proceeding to 
Kippletringan, there to inquire into the state of the family 
at Woodbourne before he should venture to make his pres- 
5 ence in the country known to Miss Mannering. The stage 
was a long one of eighteen or twenty miles, and the road lay 
across the country. To add to the inconveniences of the 
journey, the snow began to fall pretty quickly. The postilion, 
however, proceeded on his journey for a good many miles, 
io without expressing doubt or hesitation. It was not until the 
night was completely set in that he intimated his appre- 
hensions whether he was in the right road. The increasing 
snow rendered this intimation rather alarming, for as it 
drove full in the lad’s face, and lay whitening all around 
15 him, it served in two different ways to confuse his knowl- 
edge of the country, and to diminish the chance of his re- 
covering the right track. Brown then himself got out and 
looked round, not, it may well be imagined, from any better 
hope than that of seeing some house at which he might 
20 make inquiry. But none appeared — he could therefore only 
tell the lad to drive steadily on. The road on which they 
were, ran through plantations of considerable extent and 
depth, and the traveller therefore conjectured that there 
176 


GUY MANNERING 


177 


must be a gentleman’s house at no great distance. At 
length, after struggling wearily on for about a mile, the post- 
boy stopped, and protested his horses would not budge a 
foot farther; “but he saw,” he said, “a light among the 
trees, which must proceed from a house ; the only way was 5 
to inquire the road there.” Accordingly, he dismounted, 
heavily encumbered with a long great-coat, and a pair of 
boots which might have rivalled in thickness the seven-fold 
shield of Ajax.° As in this guise he was plodding forth upon 
his voyage of discovery, Brown’s impatience prevailed, and, io 
jumping out of the carriage, he desired the lad to stop where 
he was, by the horses, and he would himself go to the house 
— a command which the driver most joyfully obeyed. 

Our traveller groped along the side of the enclosure from 
which the light glimmered, in order to find some mode of 15 
approaching in that direction, and after proceeding for some 
space, at length found a stile in the hedge, and a pathway 
leading into the plantation, which in that place was of great 
extent. This promised to lead to the light which was the 
object of his search, and accordingly Brown proceeded in 20 
that direction, but soon totally lost sight of it among the 
trees. The path, which at first seemed broad and well 
marked by the opening of the wood through which it winded, 
was now less easily distinguishable, although the whiteness of 
the snow afforded some reflected light to assist his search. 25 
Directing himself as much as possible through the more open 
paths of the wood, he proceeded almost a mile without either 
recovering a view of the light, or seeing anything resembling 
a habitation. Still, however, he thought it best to persevere 
in that direction. It must surely have been a light in the 30 
hut of a forester, for it shone too steadily to be the glimmer 
of an ignis fatuus. 0 The ground at length became broken, 
and declined rapidly, and although Brown conceived he still 
N 


178 


GUY MANNERING 


moved along what had once at least been a pathway, it was 
now very unequal, and the snow concealing those breaches 
and inequalities, the traveller had one or two falls in con- 
sequence. He began now to think of turning back, especially 
5 as the falling snow, which his impatience had hitherto pre- 
vented his attending to, was coming on thicker and faster. 

Willing, however, to make a last effort, he still advanced 
a little way, when, to his great delight, he beheld the light 
opposite at no great distance, and apparently upon a level 
io with him. He quickly found that this last appearance was 
deception, for the ground continued so rapidly to sink, as 
made it obvious there was a deep dell, or ravine of some 
kind, between him and the object of his search. Taking 
every precaution to preserve his footing, he continued to 
15 descend until he reached the bottom of a very steep and 
narrow glen, through which winded a small rivulet, whose 
course was then almost choked with snow. He now found 
himself embarrassed among the ruins of cottages, whose black 
gables, rendered more distinguishable by the contrast with 
20 the whitened surface from which they rose, were still standing ; 
the side-walls had long since given way to time, and, piled 
in shapeless heaps, and covered with snow, offered frequent 
and embarrassing obstacles to our traveller’s progress. Still, 
however, he persevered, crossed the rivulet, not without some 
25 trouble, and at length, by exertions which became both painful 
and perilous, ascended its opposite and very rugged bank, 
until he came on a level with the building from which the 
gleam proceeded. 

It was difficult, especially by so imperfect a light, to dis- 
30 cover the nature of this edifice ; but it seemed a square 
building of small size, the upper part of which was totally 
ruinous. It had, perhaps, been the abode, in former times, 
of some lesser proprietor, or a place of strength and conceal- 


GUY M ANNE RING 


179 


ment, in case of need, for one of greater importance. But 
only the lower vault remained, the arch of which formed the 
roof in the present state of the building. Brown first ap- 
proached the place from whence the light proceeded, which 
was a long narrow slit or loophole, such as usually are to be 5 
found in old castles. Impelled by curiosity to reconnoitre 
the interior of this strange place before he entered, Brown 
gazed in at this aperture. A scene of greater desolation 
could not well be imagined. There was a fire upon the floor, 
the smoke of which, after circling through the apartment, io 
escaped by a hole broken in the arch above. The walls, 
seen by this smoky light, had the rude and waste appearance 
of a ruin of three centuries old at least. A cask or two, with 
some broken boxes and packages, lay about the place in 
confusion. But the inmates chiefly occupied Brown’s atten- 15 
tion. Upon a lair composed of straw, with a blanket stretched 
over it, lay a figure, so still, that, except that it was not 
dressed in the ordinary habiliments of the grave, Brown 
would have concluded it .t° be a corpse. On a steadier 
view he perceived it was only on the point of becoming so, 20 
for he heard one or two of these low, deep, and hard-drawn 
sighs, that precede dissolution when the frame is tenacious 
of life. A female figure, dressed in a long cloak, sat on 
a stone by this miserable couch; her elbows rested upon 
her knees, and her face, averted from the light of an iron 25 
lamp beside her, was bent upon that of the dying person. 
She moistened his mouth from time to time with some liquid, 
and between whiles sung, in a low monotonous cadence, one 
of those prayers, or rather spells, which, in some parts of 
Scotland, and north of England, are used by the vulgar 30 
and ignorant to speed the passage of a parting spirit, like the 
tolling of the bell in catholic days. She accompanied this 
dismal sound with a slow rocking motion of her body to and 


180 


GUY MANN BRING 


fro, as if to keep time with her song. The words ran nearly 
thus : — 

Wasted, weary, wherefore stay, 

Wrestling thus with earth and clay ? 

5 From the body pass away ; — 

Hark ! the mass is singing. 

From thee doff thy mortal weed, 

Mary Mother be thy speed, 

Saints to help thee at thy need ; — 
r .o Hark ! the knell is ringing. 

Fear not snow-drift driving fast, 

Sleet, or hail, or levin blast ; 

Soon the shroud shall lap thee fast, 

And the sleep be on thee cast 
is That shall ne’er know waking. 

Haste thee, haste thee, to be gone, 

Earth flits fast, and time draws on, — 

Gasp thy gasp, and groan thy groan, 

Day is near the breaking. 

20 The songstress paused, and was answered by one or two 
deep and hollow groans, that seemed to proceed from the 
very agony of the mortal strife. “It will not be,” she mut- 
tered to herself — “He cannot pass away with that on his 
mind — it tethers him here — 

25 ‘Heaven cannot abide it, 

Earth refuses to hide it.’° 

I must open the door;” and, rising, she faced towards the 
door of the apartment, observing heedfully not to turn back 
her head, and, withdrawing a bolt or two (for, notwithstand- 
30 ing the miserable appearance of the place, the door was 
cautiously secured), she lifted the latch, saying, 

Open lock — end strife, 

Come death, and pass life. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


181 


Brown, who had by this time moved from his post, stood 
before her as she opened the door. She stepped back a pace, 
and he entered, instantly recognizing, but with no comfortable 
sensation, the same gypsy woman whom he had met in 
Bewcastle. She also knew him at once, and her attitude, 5 
figure, and the anxiety of her countenance, assumed the 
appearance of the well-disposed ogress of a fairy tale, warning 
a stranger not to enter the dangerous castle of her husband. 
The first words she spoke (holding up her hands in a re- 
proving manner) were, “Said I not to ye, Make not, meddle 10 
not ? — Beware of the redding straik ! 1 you are come to no 
house o’ fairstrae death.” So saying, she raised the lamp, 
and turned its light on the dying man, whose rude and harsh 
features were now convulsed with the last agony. A roll of 
linen about his head was stained with blood, which had is 
soaked also through the blankets and the straw. It was, 
indeed, under no natural disease that the wretch was suffering. 
Brown started back from this horrible object, and, turning 
to the gypsy, exclaimed, “Wretched woman, who has done 
this ? ” 20 

“They that were permitted,” answered Meg Merrilies, 
while she scanned with a close and keen glance the features 
of the expiring man. — “He has had a sair struggle — but it’s 
passing — I kenn’d he would pass when you came in. — That 
was the death-ruckle — he’s dead.” 25 

Sounds were now heard at a distance, as of voices. “They 
are coming,” said she to Brown; “you are a dead man if 
ye had as mony lives as hairs.” Brown eagerly looked round 
for some weapon of defence. There was none near. He 

1 The redding straik, namely, a blow received by a peace- 
maker who interferes betwixt two combatants, to red or sepa- 
rate them, is proverbially said to be the most dangerous blow 
a man can receive. 


182 


GUY M ANNE RING 


then rushed to the door, with the intention of plunging among 
the trees, and making his escape by flight, from what he now 
esteemed a den of murderers, but Merrilies held him with a 
masculine grasp. “Here,” she said, “ here — be still and you 
5 are safe — stir not, whatever you see or hear, and nothing shall 
befall you.” 

Brown, in these desperate circumstances, remembered this 
woman’s intimation formerly, and thought he had no chance 
of safety but in obeying her. She caused him to couch down 
io among a parcel of straw on the opposite side of the apartment 
from the corpse, covered him carefully, and flung over him 
two or three old sacks which lay about the place. Anxious 
to observe what was to happen, Brown arranged, as softly as 
he could, the means of peeping from under the coverings by 
15 which he was hidden, and awaited with a throbbing heart the 
issue of this strange and most unpleasant adventure. The 
old gypsy, in the meantime, set about arranging the dead 
body, composing its limbs, and straightening the arms by its 
side. “Best to do this,” she muttered, “ere he stiffen.” 
20 She placed on the dead man’s breast a trencher, with salt 
sprinkled upon it, set one candle at the head, and another 
at the feet of the body, and lighted both. Then she resumed 
her song, and awaited the approach of those whose voices had 
been heard without. 

25 She bent her ear to every sound that whistled round the old 
walls. Then she turned again to the dead body, and found 
something new to arrange or alter in its position. “He’s 
a bonny corpse,” she muttered to herself, “and weel worth 
the streaking.” — And in this dismal occupation she ap- 
30 peared to feel a sort of professional pleasure, entering slowly 
into all the minutiae, as if with the skill and feelings of a con- 
noisseur. A long dark-colored sea-cloak, which she dragged 
out of a corner, was disposed for a pall. The face she left 


GUY MANNERING 


183 


bare, after closing the mouth and eyes, and arranged the 
capes of the cloak so as to hide the bloody bandages, and give 
the body, as she muttered, “a mair decent appearance.” 

At once three or four men, equally ruffians in appearance 
and dress, rushed into the hut. “Meg, ye limb of Satan, how 5 
dare you leave the door open?” was the first salutation of 
the party. 

“And wha ever heard of a door being barred when a man 
was in the dead-thraw ? — how d’ye think the spirit was to get 
awa through bolts and bars like thae?” 10 

“Is he dead, then?” said one who went to the side of the 
couch to look at the body. 

“Ay, ay — dead enough,” said another — “but here’s what 
shall give him a rousing lykewake.” So saying, he fetched 
a keg of spirits from a corner, while Meg hastened to display 15 
pipes and tobacco. From the activity w r ith which she under- 
took the task, Brown conceived good hope of her fidelity 
towards her guest. It was obvious that she w ished to engage 
the ruffians in their debauch, to prevent the discovery which 
might take place if, by accident, any of them should approach 20 
too nearly the place of Browm’s concealment. 












CHAPTER XXVIII 


Nor board nor gamer own we now,° 
Nor roof nor latched door, 

Nor kind mate, bound, by holy vow, 
Tp bless a good man’s store. 

Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, 

And night has grown our day ; 
Uprouse ye, then, my merry men ! 
And use it as ye may. 


Joanna Baillie. 


Brown could now reckon his foes — they were five in 
number ; two of them were very powerful men, who appeared 
to be either real seamen, or strollers who assumed that char- 
acter ; the other three, an old man and two lads, were slighter 
5 made, and, from their black hair and dark complexion, seemed 
to belong to Meg’s tribe. They passed from one to another 
the cup out of which they drank their spirits. “Here’s to 
his good voyage!” said one of the seamen, drinking; “a 
squally night he’s got, however, to drift through the sky in.” 
io We omit here various execrations with which these honest 
gentlemen garnished their discourse, retaining only such of 
their expletives as are least offensive. 

“’A does not mind wind and weather — ’A has had many 
a north-easter in his day.” 

is “He had his last yesterday,” said another gruffly; “and 
now old Meg may pray for his last fair wind, as she’s often 
done before.” 

“I’ll pray for nane o’ him,” said Meg, “nor for you neither, 
you randy dog. The times are sair altered since I was a 


184 


GUY MANNERING 


185 


kinchen-mort . 1 Men were men then, and fought other in 
the open field, and there was nae milling in the darkmans . 2 
And the gentry had kind hearts, and would have given baith 
lap and pannel 3 to ony puir gypsy ; and there was not one, 
from Johnnie Faa the upright man , 4 to little Christie that 5 
was in the panniers, would cloyed a dud 6 from them. But 
ye are a’ altered from the gude auld rules, and no wonder 
that you scour the cramp-ring, and trine to the cheat 6 sae 
often. Yes, ye are a’ altered — you’ll eat the goodman’s 
meat, drink his drink, sleep on the strammel 7 in his barn, and 10 
break his house and cut his throat for his pains ! There’s 
blood on your hands, too, ye dogs — mair than ever came 
there by fair fighting. See how ye’ll die then — lang it was 
ere he died — he strove, and strove sair, and could neither 
die nor live ; — but you — half the country will see how ye’ll 15 
grace the woodie.” 

The party set up a hoarse laugh at Meg’s prophecy. 

“Here, mother,” said one of the sailors, “here’s a cup of 
the right for you, and never mind that bully-huff.” 

Meg drank the spirits, and, withdrawing herself from further 20 
conversation, sat down before the spot where Brown lay hid, 
in such a posture that it would have been difficult for any 
one to have approached it without her rising. The men, 
however, showed no disposition to disturb her. 

They closed around the fire, and held deep consultation 25 
together; but the low tone in which they spoke, and the 
cant language which they used, prevented Brown from under- 
standing much of their conversation. At length one of them, 
observing Meg was still fast asleep, or appeared to be so, 

1 A girl. 2 Murder by night. 3 Liquor and food. 

4 The leader (and greatest rogue) of the gang. 

6 Stolen a rag. 6 Get imprisoned and hanged. 

7 Straw. 


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GUY M ANNE RING 


desired one of the lads “to hand in the black Peter, that they 
might flick it open.” The boy stepped to the door, and 
brought in a portmanteau, which Brown instantly recognized 
for his own. His thoughts immediately turned to the un- 
5 fortunate lad he had left with the carriage. Had the ruffians 
murdered him ? was the horrible doubt that crossed his mind. 
The agony of his attention grew yet keener, and while the 
villains pulled out and admired the different articles of his 
clothes and linen, he eagerly listened for some indication that 
io might intimate the fate of the postilion. But the ruffians 
were too much delighted with their prize, and too much 
busied in examining its contents, to enter into any detail 
concerning the manner in which they had acquired it. The 
portmanteau contained various articles of apparel, a pair 
15 of pistols, a leathern case with a few papers, and some 
money, etc., etc. 

After a sufficient scrutiny into the portmanteau, and an 
equitable division of its contents, the ruffians applied them- 
selves more closely to the serious occupation of drinking, in 
20 which they spent the greater part of the night. Brown was 
for some time in great hopes that they would drink so deep as 
to render themselves insensible, when his escape would have 
been an easy matter. But their dangerous trade required 
precautions inconsistent with such unlimited indulgence, and 
25 they stopped short on this side of absolute intoxication. 
Three of them at length composed themselves to rest, while the 
fourth watched. He was relieved in this duty by one of the 
others, after a vigil of two hours. When the second watch had 
elapsed, the sentinel awakened the whole, who, to Brown’s 
30 inexpressible relief, began to make some preparations as if for 
departure, bundling up the various articles which each had 
appropriated. Still, however, there remained something to 
be done. Two of them, after some rummaging, which not a 


GUY M ANNE RING 


187 


little alarmed Brown, produced a mattock and shovel, another 
took a pickaxe from behind the straw on which the dead body 
was extended. With these implements two of them left the 
hut, and the remaining three, two of whom were the seamen, 
very strong men, still remained in garrison. 5 

After the space of about half-an-hour, one of those who had 
departed again returned, and whispered the others. They 
wrapped up the dead body in the sea-cloak which had served 
as a pall, and went out, bearing it along with them. The aged 
. sibyl then arose from her real or feigned slumbers. She first io 
went to the door, as if for the purpose of watching the de- 
parture of her late inmates, then returned, and commanded 
Brown, in a low and stifled voice, to follow her instantly. He 
obeyed ; but, on leaving the hut, he would willingly have 
repossessed himself of his money, or papers at least, but this is 
she prohibited in the most peremptory manner. It immedi- 
ately occurred to him that the suspicion of having removed 
anything, of which he might repossess himself, would fall upon 
this woman, by whom, in all probability, his life had been 
saved. He therefore immediately desisted from his attempt, 20 
contenting himself with seizing a cutlass, which one of the 
ruffians had flung aside among the straw. On his feet, and 
possessed of this weapon, he already found himself half de- 
livered from the dangers which beset him. Still, however, he 
felt stiffened and cramped, both with the <;old, and by the 25 
constrained and unaltered position which he had occupied all 
night. But as he followed the gypsy from the door of the hut, 
the fresh air of the morning, and the action of walking, re- 
stored circulation and activity to his benumbed limbs. 

They crossed the small brook at the same place where it 30 
previously had been passed by those who had gone before. 
The footmarks then proceeded through the ruined village, 
and from thence down the glen, which again narrowed to a 


188 


GUY MANNERING 


ravine, after the small opening in which they were situated. 
But the gypsy no longer followed the same track : she turned 
aside, and led the way by a very rugged and uneven path up 
the bank which overhung the village. Although the snow 
5 in many places hid the pathway, and rendered the footing 
uncertain and unsafe, Meg proceeded with a firm and deter- 
mined step, which indicated an intimate knowledge of the 
ground she traversed. At length they gained the top of the 
bank, though by a passage so steep and intricate, that Brown, 
io though convinced it was the same by which he had descended 
on the night before, was not a little surprised how he had 
accomplished the task without breaking his neck. Above, 
the country opened wide and unenclosed for about a mile 
or two on the one hand, and on the other were thick planta- 
15 tions of considerable extent. 

Meg, however, still led the way along the bank of the ravine 
out of which they had ascended, until she heard beneath the 
murmur of voices. She then pointed to a deep plantation of 
trees at some distance. — “The road to Kippletringan,” she 
20 said, “is on the other side of these enclosures — Make the 
speed ye can ; there’s mair rests on your life than other folk’s. 
But you have lost all — stay.” She fumbled in an immense 
pocket, from which she produced a greasy purse — “Many’s 
the awmous your house has gi’en Meg and hers — and she has 
25 lived to pay it back in a small degree — and she placed the 
purse in his hand. 

“The woman is insane,” thought Brown ; but it was no time 
to debate the point, for the sounds he heard in the ravine 
below probably proceeded from the banditti. “How shall I 
30 repay this money,” he said, “or how acknowledge the kindness 
you have done me?” 

“I hae twa boons to crave,” answered the sibyl, speaking 
low and hastily; “one, that you will never speak of what you 


GUY M ANNE RING 


189 


have seen this night; the other, that you will not leave this 
country till you see me again, and that you leave word at the 
Gordon Arms where you are to be heard of ; and when I next 
call for you, be it in church or market, at wedding or at burial, 
Sunday or Saturday, meal-time or fasting, that ye leave every- 5 
thing else and come with me.” 

“Why, that will do you little good, mother.” 

“But ’twill do yoursell muckle, and that’s what I’m think- 
ing o’. — I am not mad, although I have had eneugh to make 
me sae — I am not mad, nor doating, nor drunken — I know 10 
what I am asking, and I know it has been the will of God to 
preserve you in strange dangers, and that I shall be the instru- 
ment to set you in your father’s seat again. ■ — Sae give me 
your promise, and mind that you owe your life to me this 
blessed night.” 15 

“There’s wildness in her manner, certainly,” thought 
Brown; “and yet it is more like the wildness of energy than 
of madness.” 

“Well, mother, since you do ask so useless and trifling 
a favor, you have my promise. It will at least give me an 20 
opportunity to repay your money with additions. You are 
an uncommon kind of creditor, no doubt, but — — ” 

“Away, away, then!” said she, waving her hand. “Think 
not about the goud — it’s a’ your ain ; but remember your 
promise, and do not dare to follow me or look after me.” 25 
So saying, she plunged again into the dell, and descended 
it with great agility, the icicles and snow-wreaths showering 
down after her as she disappeared. 

Notwithstanding her prohibition, Brown endeavored to 
gain some point of the bank from which he might, unseen, 30 
gaze down into the glen ; and with some difficulty (for it must 
be conceived that the utmost caution was necessary), he suc- 
ceeded. The spot which he attained for this purpose was the 


190 


GUY M ANNE RING 


point of a projecting rock, which rose precipitously from among 
the trees. By kneeling down among the snow', and stretching 
his head cautiously forward, he could observe what was going 
on in the bottom of the dell. He saw, as he expected, his 
5 companions of the last night, now joined by two or three 
others. They had cleared away the snow from the foot of 
the rock, and dug a deep pit, which was designed to serve the 
purpose of a grave. Around this they now stood, and lowered 
into it something wrapped in a naval cloak, which Browm in- 
iostantly concluded to be the dead body of the man he had 
seen expire. They then stood silent for half a minute, as if 
under some touch of feeling for the loss of their companion. 
But if they experienced such, they did not long remain under 
its influence, for all hands went presently to work to fill up the 
15 grave; and Brown, perceiving that the task wxmld be soon 
ended, thought it best to take the gypsy-woman’s hint, and 
walk as fast as possible until he should gain the shelter of 
the plantation. 

Having arrived under cover of the trees, his first thought 
20 was of the gypsy’s purse. He had accepted it without hesi- 
tation, though with something like a feeling of degradation, 
arising from the character of the person by whom he was 
thus accommodated. But it relieved him from a serious 
though temporary embarrassment. His money, excepting a 
25 very few shillings, was in his portmanteau, and that was in 
possession of Meg’s friends. Some time was necessary to 
write to his agent, or even to apply to his good host at 
Charlies-hope, who would gladly have supplied him. In 
the meantime, he resolved to avail himself of Meg’s subsidy, 
30 confident he should have a speedy opportunity of replacing 
it with a handsome gratuity. “It can be but a trifling sum,” 
he said to himself, “and I dare say the good lady may have 
a share of my bank-notes to make amends.” 


GUY MANNERING 


191 


With these reflections he opened the leathern purse, expect- 
ing to find at most three or four guineas. But how much was 
he surprised to discover that it contained, besides a consider- 
able quantity of gold pieces, of different coinages and various 
countries, the joint amount of which could not be short of 5 
a hundred pounds, several valuable rings and ornaments set 
with jewels, and, as appeared from the slight inspection he 
had time to give them, of very considerable value. 

Brown took from the gypsy’s treasure three or four guineas, 
for the purpose of his immediate expenses, and tying up the 10 
rest in the purse which contained them, resolved not again to 
open it, until he could either restore it to her by whom it was 
given, or put it into the hands of some public functionary. 
He next thought of the cutlass, and his first impulse was to 
leave it in the plantation. But when he considered the 15 
risk of meeting with these ruffians, he could not resolve 
on parting with his arms. His walking dress, though 
plain, had so much of a military character as suited not 
amiss with his having such a weapon. Besides, though 
the custom of wearing swords by persons out of uni- 20 
form had been gradually becoming antiquated, it was 
not yet so totally forgotten as to occasion any particular 
remark towards those who chose to adhere to it. Retain- 
ing, therefore, his weapon of defence, and placing the purse 
of the gypsy in a private pocket, our traveller strode gallantly 25 
on through the wood in search of the promised high road. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence,® 

We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, 

Have with our needles created both one flower, 

Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, 

Both warbling of one song, both in one key, 

As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, 

Had been incorporate. 

A Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

Julia Mannering to Matilda Marchmont 

“How can you upbraid me, my dearest Matilda, with 
abatement in friendship, or fluctuation in affection? Is it 
possible for me to forget that you are the chosen of my heart, 
in whose faithful bosom I have deposited every feeling which 
5 your poor Julia dares to acknowledge to herself? And you 
do me equal injustice in upbraiding me with exchanging your 
friendship for that of Lucy Bertram. I assure you she has 
not the materials I must seek for in a bosom confidante. 
She is a charming girl, to be sure, and I like her very much, 
io and I confess our forenoon and evening engagements have 
left me less time for the exercise of my pen than our pro- 
posed regularity of correspondence demands. 

“Besides, my love, I must really use the apology of all 
stupid correspondents, that I have nothing to say. My hopes, 
15 my fears, my anxieties about Brown are of a less interesting 
cast, since I know that he is at liberty, and in health. 
Besides, I must own, I think that by this time the gentle- 

192 


GUY MANNERING 


193 


man might have given me some intimation what he was 
doing. Our intercourse may be an imprudent one, but it 
is not very complimentary to me, that Mr. Vanbeest Brown 
should be the first to discover that such is the case, and to 
break off in consequence. I can promise him that we might 5 
not differ much in opinion should that happen to be his, for 
I have sometimes thought I have behaved extremely foolishly 
in that matter. Yet I have so good an opinion of poor Brown, 
that I cannot but think there is something extraordinary in 
his silence. 10 

“To return to Lucy Bertram — No, my dearest Matilda, 
she can never, never rival you in my regard, so that all your 
affectionate jealousy on that account is without foundation. 
She is, to be sure, a very pretty, a very sensible, a very affec- 
tionate girl, and I think there are few persons to whose 15 
consolatory friendship I could have recourse more freely in 
what are called the real evils of life. But then these so 
seldom come in one’s way, and one wants a friend who will 
sympathize with distresses of sentiment, as well as with actual 
misfortune. Heaven knows, and you know, my dearest 2c 
Matilda, that these diseases of the heart require the balm of 
sympathy and affection as much as the evils of a more obvious 
and determinate character. Now Lucy Bertram has nothing 
of this kindly sympathy — nothing at all, my dearest Matilda. 
Were I sick of a fever, she would sit up night after night to 25 
nurse me with the most unrepining patience; but with the 
fever of the heart, which my Matilda has soothed so often, 
she has no more sympathy than her old tutor. And yet, what 
provokes me is, that the demure monkey actually has a lover 
of her own, and that their mutual affection (for mutual I take 3c 
it to be) has a great deal of complicated and romantic in- 
terest. She was once, you know, a great heiress, but was 
ruined by the prodigality of her father, and the villainy of a 
o 


194 


GUY MANNERING 


horrid man in whom he confided. And one of the handsomest 
young gentlemen in the country is attached to her ; but as he 
is heir to a great estate, she discourages his addresses on 
account of the disproportion of their fortune. 

S “After all, I begin to be very much vexed about Brown’s 
silence. Had he been obliged to leave the country, I am 
sure he would at least have written to me — Is it possible that 
my father can have intercepted his letters ? But no — that is 
contrary to all his principles — I don’t think he would open a 
io letter addressed to me to-night, to prevent my jumping out of 
window to-morrow — What an expression I have suffered to 
escape my pen ! I should be ashamed of it, even to you, 
Matilda, and used in jest. But I need not take much merit 
for acting as I ought to do; this same Mr. Vanbeest Brown 
is is by no means so very ardent a lover as to hurry the object 
of his attachment into such inconsiderate steps. He gives 
one full time to reflect, that must be admitted. However, I 
will not blame him unheard, nor permit myself to doubt the 
manly firmness of a character which I have so often extolled 
20 to you. Were he capable of doubt, of fear, of the shadow of 
change, I should have little to regret. 

“And why, you will say, when I expect such steady and 
unalterable constancy from a lover, why should I be anxious 
about what Hazlewood does, or to whom he offers his atten- 
25 tions ? — I ask myself the question a hundred times a day, and 
it only receives the very silly answer, that one does not like to 
be neglected, though one would not encourage a serious 
infidelity.” 


CHAPTER XXX 


I renounce your defiance; 0 if you parley so roughly I’ll 
barricado my gates against you. — Do you see yon bay 
window ? Storm, — I care not, serving the good Duke of 
Norfolk. 

Merry Devil of Edmonton. 

Julia Mannering to Matilda Marchmont 

“•I rise from a sick-bed, my dearest Matilda, to com- 
municate the strange and frightful scenes which have just 
passed. You must know that this country is particularly 
favorable to the commerce of a set of desperate men from 
the Isle of Man, which is nearly opposite. These smugglers 5 
are numerous, resolute, and formidable, and have at different 
times become the dread of the neighborhood when any one 
has interfered with their contraband trade. The local 
magistrates, from timidity or worse motives, have become 
shy of acting against them, and impunity has rendered them 10 
equally daring and desperate. 

“About eleven o’clock on last Tuesday morning, while 
Hazlewood and my father were proposing to walk to a little 
lake about three miles’ distance, for the purpose of shooting 
wild ducks, and while Lucy and I were busied with arranging *5 
our plan of work and study for the day, we were alarmed by 
the sound of horses’ feet, advancing very fast up the avenue. 
The ground was hardened by a severe frost, which made the 
clatter of the hoofs sound yet louder and sharper. In a 

195 


196 


GUY M ANNE RING 


moment, two or three men, armed, mounted, and each leading 
a spare horse loaded with packages, appeared on the lawn, 
and, without keeping upon the road, which makes a small 
sweep, pushed right across for the door of the house. Their 
5 appearance was in the utmost degree hurried and disordered, 
and they frequently looked back like men who apprehended a 
close and deadly pursuit. My father and Hazlewood hurried 
to the front door to demand who they were, and what was 
their business. They were revenue officers, they stated, who 
io had seized these horses, loaded with contraband articles, at a 
place about three miles off. But the smugglers had been 
reinforced, and were now pursuing them with the avowed 
purpose of recovering the goods, and putting to death the 
officers who had presumed to do their duty. The men said, 
15 that their horses being loaded, and the pursuers gaining ground 
upon them, they had fled to Woodbourne, conceiving, that as 
my father had served the king, he would not refuse to protect 
the servants of government, when threatened to be murdered 
in the discharge of their duty. 

20 “My father, to whom, in his enthusiastic feelings of mili- 
tary loyalty, even a dog would be of importance if he came in 
the king’s name, gave prompt orders for securing the goods in 
the hall, arming the servants, and defending the house in case 
it should be necessary. Hazlewood seconded him with great 
25 spirit, and even the strange animal they call Sampson stalked 
out of his den, and seized upon a fowling-piece, which my 
father had laid aside, to take what they call a rifle-gun, with 
which they shoot tigers, etc., in the East. 

“When my father had got everything into proper order for 
30 defence, and his people stationed at the windows with their 
firearms, he wanted to order us out of danger — into the 
cellar, I believe — but we could not be prevailed upon to stir. 
Though terrified to death, I have so much of his own spirit } 


GUY M ANNE RING 


197 


that I would look upon the peril which threatens us rather 
than hear it rage around me without knowing its nature or its 
progress. Lucy, looking as pale as a marble statue, and 
keeping her eyes fixed on Hazlewood, seemed not even to 
hear the prayers with which he conjured her to leave the front 5 
of the house. But, in truth, unless the hall-door should be 
forced, we were in little danger ; the windows being almost 
blocked up with cushions and pillows, and, what the Dominie 
most lamented, with folio volumes, brought hastily from the 
library, leaving only spaces through which the defenders might 10 
fire upon the assailants. 

“My father had now made his dispositions, and we sat in 
breathless expectation in the darkened apartment, the men 
remaining all silent upon their posts, in anxious contemplation 
probably of the approaching danger. My father, who was 15 
quite at home in such a scene, walked from one to another, 
and reiterated his orders, that no one should presume to fire 
until he gave the word. Hazlewood, who seemed to catch 
courage from his eye, acted as his aide-de-camp, and dis- 
played the utmost alertness in bearing his directions from one 20 
place to another, and seeing them properly carried into 
execution. Our force, with the strangers included, might 
amount to about twelve men. 

“At length the silence of this awful period of expectation 
was broken by a sound, which, at a distance, was like the 25 
rushing of a stream of water, but, as it approached, we dis- 
tinguished the thick-beating clang of a number of horses 
advancing very fast. I had arranged a loophole for myself, 
from which I could see the approach of the enemy. The 
noise increased and came nearer, and at length thirty horse- 30 
men and more rushed at once upon the lawn. You never 
saw such horrid wretches ! Notwithstanding the severity of 
the season, they were most of them stripped to their shirts and 


198 


GUY M ANNE RING 


trousers, with silk handkerchiefs knotted about their heads, 
and all well armed with carbines, pistols, and cutlasses. I, 
•who am a soldier’s daughter, and accustomed to see war from 
my infancy, was never so terrified in my life as by the savage 
5 appearance of these ruffians, their horses reeking with the 
speed at which they had ridden, and their furious exclama- 
tions of rage and disappointment, when they saw themselves 
balked of their prey. They paused, however, when they saw 
the preparations made to receive them, and appeared to hold 
io a moment’s consultation among themselves. At length, one 
of the party, his face blackened with gunpowder by way of 
disguise, came forward with a white handkerchief on the end 
of his carbine, and asked to speak with Colonel Mannering. 
My father, to my infinite terror, threw open a window near 
is which he was posted, and demanded what he wanted. ‘We 
want our goods, which we have been robbed of by these 
sharks,’ said the fellow; ‘and our lieutenant bids me say, that 
if they are delivered, we’ll go off for this bout without clearing 
scores with the rascals who took them ; but if not, we’ll burn 
20 the house, and have the heart’s blood of every one in it’ : — 
a threat which he repeated more than once, graced by a fresh 
variety of imprecations, and the most horrid denunciations 
that cruelty could suggest. 

“‘And which is your lieutenant?’ said my father in reply. 
25 “‘That gentleman on the gray horse,’ said the miscreant, 
‘with the red handkerchief bound about his brow.’ 

‘“Then be pleased to tell that gentleman, that if he, and 
the scoundrels who are with him, do not ride off the lawn 
this instant, I will fire upon them without ceremony.’ So 
30 saying, my father shut the window, and broke short the 
conference. 

“The fellow no sooner regained his troop, than, with a 
loud hurra, or rather a savage yell, they fired a volley against 


GUY MANNERING 


199 


our garrison. The glass of the windows was shattered in 
every direction, but the precautions already noticed saved 
the party within from suffering. Three such volleys were 
fired without a shot being returned from within. My father 
then observed them getting hatchets and crows, probably to 5 
assail the hall-door, and called aloud, ‘Let none fire but 
Hazlewood and me — Hazlewood, mark the ambassador.’ 
He himself aimed at the man on the gray horse, who fell on 
receiving his shot. Hazlewood was equally successful. He 
shot the spokesman, who had dismounted, and was advancing io 
with an axe in his hand. Their fall discouraged the rest, who 
began to turn round their horses; and a few shots fired at 
them soon sent them off, bearing along with them their 
slain or wounded companions. We could not observe that 
they suffered any further loss. Shortly after their retreat 15 
a party of soldiers made their appearance, to my infinite 
relief. These men were quartered at a village some miles 
distant, and had marched on the first rumor of the skirmish. 

A part of them escorted the terrified revenue officers and their 
seizure to a neighboring seaport as a place of safety, and at 20 
my earnest request two or three files remained with us for 
that and the following day, for the security of the house 
from the vengeance of these banditti. 

“Such, dearest Matilda, was my first alarm. I must not 
forget to add, that the ruffians left, at a cottage on the road- 25 
side, the man whose face was blackened with powder, ap- 
parently because he was unable to bear transportation. He 
died in about half-an-hour after. On examining the corpse, 
it proved to be that of a profligate boor in the neighborhood, 
a person notorious as a poacher and smuggler. We received 3° 
many messages of congratulation from the neighboring 
families, and it was generally allowed that a few such in- 
stances of spirited resistance would greatly check the pre- 


200 


GUY MANNERING 


sumption of these lawless men. I have yet another and a 
more interesting incident to communicate. I feel, however, 
so much fatigued with my present exertion, that I cannot 
resume the pen till to-morrow. I will detain this letter 
5 notwithstanding, that you may not feel any anxiety upon 
account of your own Julia Mannering.” 


CHAPTER XXXI 


Here’s a good world ! ° 

Knew you of this fair work ? 

King John. 

Julia Mannering to Matilda Marchmont 

“I must take up the thread of my story, my dearest Matilda, 
where I broke off yesterday. 

“For two or three days we talked of nothing but our siege 
and its probable consequences, and dinned into my father’s 
unwilling ears a proposal to go to Edinburgh, or at least to 5 
Dumfries, where there is remarkably good society, until the 
resentment of these outlaws should blow over. He answered 
with great composure, that he had no mind to have his land- 
lord’s house and his own property at Woodbourne destroyed ; 
that, with our good leave, he had usually been esteemed com- 10 
petent to taking measures for the safety or protection of his 
family ; that if he remained quiet at home, he conceived the 
welcome the villains had received was not of a nature to invite 
a second visit, but should he show any signs of alarm, it would 
be the sure way to incur the very risk which we were afraid of. 15 
Heartened by his arguments, and by the extreme indifference 
with which he treated the supposed danger, we began to grow 
a little bolder, and walk about as usual. Only the gentle- 
men were sometimes invited to take their guns when they 
attended us, and I observed that my father for several nights 20 
paid particular attention to having the house properly secured, 

201 


202 


GUY MANNERING 


and required his domestics to keep their arms in readiness in 
case of necessity. 

“But three days ago chanced an occurrence, of a nature 
which alarmed me more by far than the attack of the smug- 
5 glers. 

“I told you there was a small lake at some distance from 
Woodbourne, where the gentlemen sometimes go to shoot 
wild-fowl. I happened at breakfast to say I should like to see 
this place in its present frozen state, occupied by skaters and 
xo curlers, as they call those who play a particular sort of game 
upon the ice. There is snow upon the ground, but frozen so 
hard that I thought Lucy and I might venture to that distance, 
as the footpath leading there was well beaten by the repair of 
those who frequented it for pastime. Hazlewood instantly 
is offered to attend us, and we stipulated that he should take his 
fowling-piece. He laughed a good deal at the idea of going 
a-shooting in the snow; but, to relieve our tremors, desired 
that a groom, who acts as gamekeeper occasionally, should 
follow us with his gun. As for Colonel Mannering, he does 
20 not like crowds or sights of any kind where human figures 
make up the show, unless indeed it were a military review — 
so he declined the party. 

“We set out unusually early, on a fine frosty, exhilarating 
morning, and we felt our minds, as well as our nerves, braced 
2 5 by the elasticity of the pure air. Our walk to the lake was 
delightful, or at least the difficulties were only such as diverted 
us, a slippery descent for instance, or a frozen ditch to cross, 
which made Hazlewood’s assistance absolutely necessary. I 
don’t think Lucy liked her walk the less for these occasional 
30 embarrassments. 

“The scene upon the lake was beautiful. One side of it is 
bordered by a steep crag, from which hung a thousand enor- 
mous icicles all glittering in the sun ; on the other side was a 


GUY M ANNE RING 


203 


little wood, now exhibiting that fantastic appearance which the 
pine-trees present when their branches are loaded with snow. 
On the frozen bosom of the lake itself were a multitude of 
moving figures, some flitting along with the velocity of swal- 
lows, some sweeping in the most graceful circles, and others 5 
deeply interested in a less active pastime, crowding round the 
spot where the inhabitants of two rival parishes contended for 
the prize at curling, 0 an honor of no small importance, if we 
were to judge from the anxiety expressed both by the players 
and bystanders. We walked round the little lake, supported 10 
by Hazlewood, who lent us each an arm. He spoke, poor 
fellow, with great kindness, to old and young, and seemed 
deservedly popular among the assembled crowd. At length 
we thought of retiring. 

“We were returning home by a footpath, which led through is 
a plantation of firs. Lucy had quitted^Hazlewood’s arm — it 
is only the plea of absolute necessity which reconciles her to 
accept his assistance. I still leaned upon his other arm. 
Lucy followed us close, and the servant was two or three 
paces behind us. Such was our position, when at once, and 20 
as if he had started out of the earth, Brown stood before us 
at a short turn of the road ! He was very plainly, I might say 
coarsely, dressed, and his whole appearance had in it some- 
thing wild and agitated. I screamed between surprise and 
terror — Hazlewood mistook the nature of my alarm, and, 25 
when Brown advanced towards me as if to speak, commanded 
him haughtily to stand back, and not to alarm the lady. 
Brown replied, with equal asperity, he had no occasion to 
take lessons from him how to behave to that or any other 
lady. I rather believe that Hazlewood, impressed with the 30 
idea that he belonged to the band of smugglers, and had some 
bad purpose in view, heard and understood him imperfectly. 

He snatched the gun from the servant, who had come up on 


204 


GUY MANNERING 


a line with us, and, pointing the muzzle at Brown, commanded 
him to stand off at his peril. My screams, for my terror pre- 
vented my finding articulate language, only hastened the 
catastrophe. Brown, thus menaced, sprung upon Hazle- 
5 wood, grappled with him, and had nearly succeeded in 
wrenching the fowling-piece from his grasp, when the gun 
went off in the struggle, and the contents were lodged in 
Hazlewood’s shoulder, who instantly fell. I saw no more, 
for the whole scene reeled before my eyes, and I fainted 
io away; but, by Lucy’s report, the unhappy perpetrator of 
this action gazed a moment on the scene before him, until 
her screams began to alarm the people upon the lake, several 
of whom now came in sight. He then bounded over a hedge 
which divided the footpath from the plantation, and has not 
15 since been heard of. The servant made no attempt to stop 
or secure him, and report he made of the matter to those who 
came up to us, induced them rather to exercise their human- 
ity in recalling me to life, than show their courage by pur- 
suing a desperado, described by the groom as a man of 
20 tremendous personal strength, and completely armed. 

“Hazlewood was conveyed home, that is, to Woodbourne, 
in safety — I trust his wound will prove in no respect danger- 
ous, though he suffers much. But to Brown the consequences 
must be most disastrous. He is already the object of my 
25 father’s resentment, and he has now incurred danger from the 
law of the country, as well as from the clamorous vengeance 
of the father of Hazlewood, who threatens to move heaven 
and earth against the author of his son’s wound. How will 
he be able to shroud himself from the vindictive activity of 
30 the pursuit? how to defend himself, if taken, against the 
severity of laws which I am told may even affect his life ? and 
how can I find means to warn him of his danger? Then 
poor Lucy’s ill-concealed grief, occasioned by her lover’s 


GUY M ANNE RING 


205 


wound, is another source of distress to me, and everything 
round me appears to bear witness against that indiscretion 
which has occasioned this calamity. 

“For two days I was very ill indeed. The news that 
Hazlewood was recovering, and that the person who had 5 
shot him was nowhere to be traced, only that for certain he 
was one of the leaders of the gang of smugglers, gave me 
some comfort. The suspicion and pursuit being directed 
towards those people, must naturally facilitate Brown’s escape, 
and, I trust, has, ere this, insured it. But patrols of horse 10 
and foot traverse the country in all directions, and I am 
tortured by a thousand confused and unauthenticated rumors 
of arrests and discoveries. 

“Meanwhile, my greatest source of comfort is the generous 
candor of Hazlewood, who persists in declaring, that with 15 
whatever intentions the person by whom he was wounded 
approached our party, he is convinced the gun went off in 
the struggle by accident, and that the injury he received was 
undesigned. The groom, on the other hand, maintains that 
the piece was wrenched out of Hazlewood’s hands, and 20 
deliberately pointed at his body, and Lucy inclines to the 
same opinion — I do not suspect them of wilful exaggeration, 
yet such is the fallacy of human testimony, for the unhappy 
shot was most unquestionably discharged unintentionally. 
Perhaps it would be the best way to confide the whole secret 25 
to Hazlewood — but he is very young, and I feel the utmost 
repugnance to communicate to him my folly. I once thought 
of disclosing the mystery to Lucy, and began by asking what 
she recollected of the person and features of the man whom 
we had so unfortunately met — but she ran out into such a 30 
horrid description of a hedge-ruffian, that I was deprived of 
all courage and disposition to own my attachment to one of 
such appearance as she attributed to him. I must say Miss 


206 


GUY M ANNE RING 


Bertram is strangely biassed by her prepossessions, for there 
are few handsomer men than poor Brown. I had not seen 
him for a long time, and even in his strange and sudden 
apparition on this unhappy occasion, and under every dis- 
5 advantage, his form seems to me, on reflection, improved in 
grace, and his features in expressive dignity. — Shall we ever 
meet again ? Who can answer that question ? — Write to 
me kindly, my dearest Matilda — but when did you other- 
wise ? — yet, again, write to me soon, and write to me kindly, 
io I am not in a situation to profit by advice or reproof, nor have 
I my usual spirits to parry them by raillery. I feel the terrors 
of a child, who has, in heedless sport, put in motion some 
powerful piece of machinery; and, while he beholds wheels 
revolving, chains clashing, cylinders rolling around him, is 
is equally astonished at the tremendous powers which his weak 
agency has called into action, and terrified for the conse- 
quences which he is compelled to await, without the possi- 
bility of averting them. But I will not oppress you any 
longer with my complaints. Adieu, my dearest Matilda! 

Julia Mannering.” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


A man may see how this world goes® with no eyes. — Look 
with thine ears : See how yon justice rails upon yon simple 
thief. Hark in thine ear — Change places ; and, handy- 
dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? 

King Lear. 

Among those who took the most lively interest in en- 
deavoring to discover the person by whom young Charles 
Hazlewood had been waylaid and wounded, was Gilbert 

Glossin, Esquire, late writer in , now Laird of Ellangowan, 

and one of the worshipful commission of justices of the peace 5 

for the county of . His motives for exertion on this 

occasion were manifold; but we presume that our readers, 
from what they already know of this gentleman, will acquit 
him of being actuated by any zealous or intemperate love of 
abstract justice. io 

The truth was, that this respectable personage felt himself 
less at ease than he had expected, after his machinations put 
him in possession of his benefactor’s estate. His reflections 
within doors, where so much occurred to remind him of 
former times, were not always the self-congratulations of 15 
successful stratagem. And when he looked abroad, he could 
not but be sensible that he was excluded from the society of 
the gentry of the county, to whose rank he conceived he had 
raised himself. With the common people his reputation 
stood still worse. They would neither yield him the terri- 20 
torial appellation of Ellangowan, nor the usual compliment 
207 


208 


GUY M ANNE RING 


of Mr. Glossin ; — with them he was bare Glossin, and so 
incredibly was his vanity interested by this trifling circum- 
stance, that he was known to give half-a-crown to a beggar, 
because he had thrice called him Ellangowan, in beseeching 
5 him for a penny. 

The attack on Colonel Mannering’s house, followed by the 
accident of Hazlewood’s wound, appeared to Glossin a proper 
opportunity to impress upon the country at large the service 
which could be rendered by an active magistrate (for he had 
io been in the commission for some time), well acquainted with 
the law, and no less so with the haunts and habits of the illicit 
traders. He had acquired the latter kind of experience by 
a former close alliance with some of the most desperate 
smugglers, in consequence of which he had occasionally acted, 
is sometimes as partner, sometimes as legal adviser, with these 
persons. But the connection had been dropped many years. 
To acquire the good opinion and countenance of Colonel 
Mannering would be no small object to a gentleman who 
was much disposed to escape from Coventry; and to gain 
20 the favor of old Hazlewood, who was a leading man in the 
county, was of more importance still. Lastly, if he should 
succeed in discovering, apprehending, and convicting the 
culprits, he would have the satisfaction of mortifying, and 
in some degree disparaging, Mac-Morlan, to whom, as Sheriff- 
2 5 substitute of the county, this sort of investigation properly 
belonged, and who would certainly suffer in public opinion 
should the voluntary exertions of Glossin be more successful 
than his own. 

Actuated by motives so stimulating, and well acquainted 
30 with the lower retainers of the law, Glossin set every spring in 
motion to detect and apprehend, if possible, some of the gang 
who had attacked Woodbourne, and more particularly the 
individual whq had wounded Charles Hazlewood. He prom- 


GUY M ANNE RING 


209 


ised high rewards, he suggested various schemes, and used 
his personal interest among his old acquaintances who 
favored the trade, urging that they had better make sacrifice 
of an understrapper or two than incur the odium of having 
favored such atrocious proceedings. But for some time all 5 
these exertions were in vain. The common people of the 
country either favored or feared the smugglers too much 
to afford any evidence against them. At length, this busy 
magistrate obtained information, that a man, having the dress 
and appearance of the person who had wounded Hazlewood, 10 
had lodged on the evening before the rencontre at the Gordon 
Arms in Kippletringan. Thither Mr. Glossin immediately 
went, for the purpose of interrogating our old acquaintance, 
Mrs. Mac-Candlish. 

The reader may remember that Mr. Glossin did not, 15 
according to this good woman’s phrase, stand high in her 
books. She therefore attended his summons to the parlor 
slowly and reluctantly, and, on entering the room, paid her 
respects in the coldest possible manner. The dialogue then 
proceeded as follows : 20 

“A fine frosty morning, Mrs. Mac-Candlish.” 

“Ay, sir; the morning’s weel eneugh,” answered the land- 
lady dryly. 

“Have there been brisk doings on the road, Mrs. Mac- 
Candlish? plenty of company, I suppose?” 25 

“Pretty weel, sir, — but I believe I am wanted at the bar.” 
“No, no, — stop one moment, cannot you, to oblige an old 
customer ? — Pray, do you remember a remarkably tall 
young man, who lodged one night in your house last week ? ” 
“Troth, sir, I canna weel say — I never take heed whether 30 
my company be lang or short, if they make a lang bill.” 

“And if they do not, you can do that for them, eh, 
Mrs. Mac-Candlish ? — ha, ha, ha ! — But this young man 
p 


210 


GUY MANNERING 


that I inquire after was upwards of six feet high, had a dark 
frock, with metal buttons, light-brown hair unpowdered, 
blue eyes, and a straight nose, travelled on foot, had no 
servant or baggage — you surely can remember having seen 
5 such a traveller?” 

“Indeed, sir,” answered Mrs. Mac-Candlish, bent on baf- 
fling his inquiries, “I canna charge my memory about the 
matter — there’s mair to do in a house like this, I trow, than 
to look after passengers’ hair, or their een, or noses either.” 
io “Then, Mrs. Mac-Candlish, I must tell you in plain terms, 
that this person is suspected of having been guilty of a crime ; 
and it is in consequence of these suspicions that I, as a magis- 
trate, require this information from you, — and if you refuse 
to answer my questions, I must put you upon your oath.” 

15 “Troth, sir, I am no free to swear 1 — we aye gaed to the 
Antiburgher meeting — it’s very true, in Bailie Mac-Cand- 
lish’s time (honest man), we keepit the kirk, whilk was most 
seemly in his station, as having office — but after his being 
called to a better place than Kippletringan, I hae gaen back 
20 to worthy Maister Mac-Grainer. And so ye see, sir, I am no 
clear to swear without speaking to the minister — especially 
against ony sackless puir young thing that’s gaun through the 
country, strange and freendless like.” 

“I shall relieve your scruples, perhaps, without troubling 
25 Mr. Mac-Grainer, when I tell you that this fellow whom I 
inquire after is the man who shot your young friend Charles 
Hazlewood.” 

“Gudeness! wha could hae thought the like o’ that o’ 
him ? — na, if it had been for debt, or e’en for a bit tuilzie wi’ 
30 the gauger, the deil o’ Nelly Mac-Candlish’s tongue should 
ever hae wranged him. But if he really -shot young Hazle- 

1 Some of the strict dissenters decline taking an oath before 
a civil magistrate. 


GUY MANNERING 


211 


wood — But I canna think it, Mr. Glossin ; this will be some 
o’ your skits 1 now — I canna think it o’ sae douce a lad ; — 
na, na, this is just some o’ your auld skits. — Ye’ll be for 
having a horning or a caption after him.” 

“I see you have no confidence in me, Mrs. Mac-Candlish ; 5 
but look at these declarations, signed by the persons who saw 
the crime committed, and judge yourself if the description 
of the ruffian be not that of your guest.” 

He put the papers into her hands, which she perused very 
carefully, often taking off her spectacles to cast her eyes up 10 
to Heaven, or perhaps to wipe a tear from them, for young 
Hazlewood was an especial favorite with the good dame. 
“Aweel, aweel,” she said, when she had concluded her ex- 
amination, “since it’s e’en sae, I gie him up, the villain — But 
oh, we are erring mortals ! — I never saw a face I liked better, 15 
or a lad that was mair douce and canny — I thought he had 
been some gentleman under trouble. — But I gie him up, the 
villain ! — to shoot Charles Hazlewood — and before the 
young ladies, poor innocent things ! — I gie him up.” 

“So you admit, then, that such a person lodged here the 20 
night before this vile business?” 

“Troth did he, sir, and a’ the house were taen wi’ him, 
he was sic a frank, pleasant young man. It wasna for his 
spending, I’m sure, for he just had a mutton-chop, and a mug 
of ale, and maybe a glass or twa o’ wine — and I asked him 25 
to drink tea wi’ mysell, and didna put that into the bill ; and 
he took nae supper, for he said he was defeat wi’ travel a’ the 
night before — I dare say now it had been on some hellicat 
errand or other.” 

“Did you by any chance learn his name ? ” 30 

“I wot weel did I,” said the landlady, now as eager to 
communicate her evidence as formerly desirous to suppress 
1 Tricks. 


212 


GUY MANNERING 


it. “He tell’d me his name was Brown, and he said it was 
likely that an auld woman like a gypsy wife might be asking 
for him — Ay, ay! tell me your company, and I’ll tell you 
wha ye are ! Oh, the villain ! — Aweel, sir, when he gaed 
S away in the morning, he paid his bill very honestly, and gae 
something to the chamber-maid, nae doubt, for Grizy has 
naething frae me, by twa pair o’ new shoon ilka year, and 

maybe a bit compliment at Hansel Monanday ” Here 

Glossin found it necessary to interfere, and bring the good 
io woman back to the point. 

“Ou than, he just said, if there comes such a person to 
inquire after Mr. Brown, you will say I am gone to look at 
the skaters on Loch Creeran, as you call it, and I will be back 
here to dinner — But he never came back — though I ex- 
15 pected him sae faithfully, that I gae a look to making the 
friar’s chicken mysell, and to the crappit-heads too, and that’s 
what I dinna do for ordinary, Mr. Glossin — But little did 
I think what skating wark he was gaun about — to shoot 
Mr. Charles, the innocent lamb !” 

20 Mr. Glossin, ihaving, like a prudent examinator, suffered 
his witness to give vent to all her surprise and indignation, 
now began to inquire whether the suspected person had left 
any property or papers about the inn. 

“Troth, he put a parcel — a sma’ parcel, under my charge, 
25 and he gave me some siller, and desired me to get him half-a- 
dozen ruffled sarks, and Peg Pasley’s in hands wi’ them e’en 
now — they may serve him to gang up the Lawnmarket 1 in, 

1 The procession of the criminals to the gallows of old took 
that direction, moving, as the schoolboy rhyme had it, 

Up the Lawnmarket, 

Down the West Bow, 

Up the lang ladder, 

And down the little tow. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


213 


the scoundrel !” Mr. Glossin then demanded to see the 
packet, but here mine hostess demurred. 

“She didna ken — she wad not say but justice should take 
its course — but when a thing was trusted to ane in her way, 
doubtless they were responsible — but she suld cry in Deacon 5 
Bearcliff, and if Mr. Glossin liked to tak an inventar o’ the 
property, and gie her a receipt before the Deacon — or, what 
she wad like muckle better, an it could be sealed up and left 
in Deacon Bearcliff ’s hands, it wad mak her mind easy — She 
was for naething but justice on a’ sides.” 10 

Mrs. Mac-Candlish’s natural sagacity and acquired sus- 
picion being inflexible, Glossin sent for Deacon Bearcliff, to 
speak “anent the villain that had shot Mr. Charles Hazle- 
wood.” The Deacon accordingly made his appearance, with 
his wig awry, owing to the hurry with which, at this summons 15 
of the Justice, he had exchanged it for the Kilmarnock cap 
in which he usually attended his customers. Mrs. Mac- 
Candlish then produced the parcel deposited with her by 
Brown, in which was found the gypsy’s purse. On perceiving 
the value of the miscellaneous contents, Mrs. Mac-Candlish 20 
internally congratulated herself upon the precautions she 
had taken before delivering them up to Glossin, while he, 
with an appearance of disinterested candor, was the first to 
propose they should be properly inventoried, and deposited 
with Deacon Bearcliff, until they should be sent to the Crown 25 
Office. “He did not,” he observed, “like to be personally 
responsible for articles which seemed of considerable value, 
and had doubtless been acquired by the most nefarious 
practices.” 

He then examined the paper in which the purse had been 30 
wrapt up. It was the back of a letter addressed to V. Brown, 
Esquire, but the rest of the address was torn away. The 
landlady, — now as eager to throw light upon the criminal’s 


214 


GUY MANNERING 


escape as she had formerly been desirous of withholding it, 
for the miscellaneous contents of the purse argued strongly 
to her mind that all was not right, — Mrs. Mac-Candlish, 
I say, now gave Glossin to understand, that her postilion and 
5 hostler had both seen the stranger upon the ice that day 
when young Hazlewood was wounded. 

Our readers’ old acquaintance, Jock Jabos, was first sum- 
moned, and admitted frankly that he had seen and con- 
versed upon the ice that morning with a stranger, who, he 
io understood, had lodged at the Gordon Arms the night before. 

“What turn did your conversation take?” said Glossin. 

“Turn? — ou, we turned nae gate at a’, but just keepit 
straight forward upon the ice like.” 

“Well, but what did ye speak about?” 

15 “Ou, he just asked questions like ony ither stranger,” 
answered the postilion, possessed, as it seemed, with the 
refractory and uncommunicative spirit which had left his 
mistress. 

“But about what?” said Glossin. 

20 “Ou, just about the folk that was playing at the curling, 
and about auld Jock Stevenson that was at the cock, and 
about the leddies, and sic like.” 

“What ladies? and what did he ask about them, Jock?” 
said the interrogator. 

25 “What leddies? ou, it was Miss Jowlia Mannering and 
Miss Lucy Bertram, that ye ken fu’ weel yoursell, Mr. Glossin 
— they were walking wi’ the young Laird of Hazlewood upon 
the ice.” 

“And what did you tell him about them?” demanded 
30 Glossin. 

“Tut, we just said that was Miss Lucy Bertram of Ellan- 
gowan, that should ance have had a great estate in the 
country — and that was Miss Jowlia Mannering, that was 


GUY M ANNE RING 


215 


to be married to young Hazlewood — See as she was hinging 
on his arm — we just spoke about our country clashes like 
— he was a very frank man.” 

“Well, and what did he say in answer ?” 

“Ou, he just stared at the young leddies very keen like, 5 
and asked if it was for certain that the marriage w T as to 
be between Miss Mannering and young Hazlewood — and I 
answered him that it was for positive and absolute certain, 
as I had an undoubted right to say sae — for my third cousin 
Jean Clavers (she’s a relation o’ your ain, Mr. Glossin, ye wad 10 
ken Jean lang syne?), she’s sib to the housekeeper at Wood- 
bourne, and she’s tell’d me mair than ance that there was 
naething could be mair likely.” 

“And what did the stranger say when you told him all 
this?” said Glossin. 15 

“Say?” echoed the postilion, “he said naething at a’ — 
he just stared at them as they walked round the loch upon 
the ice, as if he could have eaten them, and he never took 
his ee aff them or said another word, or gave another glance 
at the Bonspiel, though there was the finest fun amang the 20 
curlers ever was seen — and he turned round and gaed aff 
the loch by the kirk-stile through Woodbourne fir-plantings, 
and we saw nae mair o’ him.” 

“Only think,” said Mrs. Mac-Candlish, “what a hard 
heart he maun hae had, to think o’ hurting the poor young 25 
gentleman in the very presence of the leddy he was to be 
married to ! ” 

“Weel, aweel, sirs,” said Jabos, whose hard-headed and 
uncultivated shrewdness seemed sometimes to start the game 
when others beat the bush — “Weel, weel, ye may be a’ mis- 30 
ta’en yet — I’ll never believe that a man would lay a plan to 
shoot another wi’ his ain gun. Lord help me, I was the 
.keeper’s assistant down at the Isle mysell, and I’ll uphaud it ? 


216 


GUY MANNERING 


the biggest man in Scotland shouldna take a gun frae me or 
I had weized the slugs through him, though I’m but sic a 
little feckless body, fit for naething but the outside o’ a saddle 
and the fore-end o’ a poschay ° — na, na, nae living man wad 
5 venture oh that. I’ll wad ma best buckskins, and they were 
new coft at Kirkcudbright fair, it’s been a chance job after 
a’. But if ye hae naething mair to say to me, I am think- 
ing I maun gang and see my beasts fed.” And he departed 
accordingly. 

io The hostler, who had accompanied him, gave evidence to 
the same purpose. He and Mrs. Mac-Candlish were then 
re-interrogated, whether Brown had no arms with him on that 
unhappy morning. “None,” they said, “but an ordinary bit 
cutlass or hanger by his side.” 

is “Now,” said the Deacon, taking Glossin by the button 
(for, in considering this intricate subject, he had forgot Glos- 
sin ’s new accession of rank) — “this is but doubtfu’ after a’, 
Maister Gilbert — for it was not sae dooms likely that he 
would go down into battle wi’ sic sma’ means.” 

20 Glossin extricated himself from the Deacon’s grasp, and 
from the discussion, though not with rudeness; for it was 
his present interest to buy golden opinions 0 from all sorts of 
people. He inquired the price of tea and sugar, and spoke of 
providing himself for the year; he gave Mrs. Mac-Candlish 

25 directions to have a handsome entertainment in readiness for 
a party of five friends, whom he intended to invite to dine 
with him at the Gordon Arms next Saturday week; and 
lastly, he gave a half-crown to Jock Jabos, whom the hostler 
had deputed to hold his steed. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


A man that apprehends 0 death to be no more dreadful but 
as a drunken sleep ; careless, reckless, and fearless of what’s 
past, present, or to come ; insensible of mortality, and desper- 
ately mortal. 

Measure for Measure. 

Glossin rode slowly back to Ellangowan, pondering on 
what he had heard, and more and more convinced that the 
active and successful prosecution of this mysterious business 
was an opportunity of ingratiating himself with Hazlewood 
and Mannering to be on no account neglected. Perhaps, 5 
also, he felt his professional acuteness interested in bringing 
it to a successful close. It was, therefore, with great pleasure 
that, on his return to his house from Kippletringan, he heard 
his servants announce hastily, “that Mac-Guffog, the thief- 
taker, and twa or three concurrents, had a man in hands in 10 
the kitchen waiting for his honor.” 

He instantly jumped from horseback, and hastened into the 
house. “Send my clerk here directly; ye’ll find him copying 
the survey of the estate in the little green parlor. Set things 
to rights in my study, and wheel the great leathern chair up 15 
to the writing-table — set a stool for Mr. Scrow. — Scrow (to 
the clerk, as he entered the presence-chamber), hand down Sir 
George Mackenzie on Crimes; open it at the section Vis 
Publica et Privata, 0 and fold down a leaf at the passage ‘anent 
the bearing of unlawful weapons.’ Now lend me a hand off 20 
with my muckle-coat, and hang it up in the lobby, and bid 

217 


218 


GUY M ANNE RING 


them bring up the prisoner — I trow I’ll sort him — but stay, 
first send up Mac-Guff og. — Now, Mac-Guff og, where did ye 
find this chield?” 

Mac-Guffog, a stout bandy-legged fellow, with a neck like a 
S bull, a face like a firebrand, and a most portentous squint of 
the left eye, began, after various contortions by way of 
courtesy to the Justice, to tell his story, eking it out by sundry 
sly nods and knowing winks, which appeared to bespeak an 
intimate correspondence of ideas between the narrator and 
io his principal auditor. “ Your honor sees I went down to yon 
place that your honor spoke o’, that’s kept by her that your 
honor kens o’, by 'the seaside. — So, says she, what are you 
wanting here ? ye’ll be come wi’ a broom 0 in your pocket frae 
Ellangowan ? — So, says I, deil a broom will come frae there 
is awa, for ye ken, says I, his honor Ellangowan himsell in 
former times ” 

“Well, well,” said Glossin, “no occasion to be particular, 
tell the essentials.” 

“Weel, so we sat niffering about some brandy that I said 
20 I wanted, till he came in.” 

“Who?” 

“He!” pointing with his thumb inverted to the kitchen, 
where the prisoner was in custody. “So he had his griego 
wrapped close round him, and I judged he was not dry- 
2 s handed 1 — so I thought it was best to speak proper, and so he 
believed I was a Manks man, and I kept aye between him and 
her, for fear she had whistled. 2 And then we began to drink 
about, and then I betted he would not drink out a quartern 0 
of Hollands without drawing breath — and then he tried it — 
30 and just then Slounging Jock and Dick Spur’em came in, and 
we clinked the darbies 3 on him, took him as quiet as a lamb 

1 Unarmed. 2 Given information to the party concerned. 

3 Handcuffs. 


GUY M ANN ERIN G 


219 


— and now he’s had his bit sleep out* and is as fresh as a 
May gowan, to answer what your honor likes to spier.” 

“Had he no arms?” asked the Justice. 

“Ay, ay, they are never without barkers and slashers.” 

“Any papers?” 5 

“This bundle,” delivering a dirty pocket-book. 

“Go downstairs, then, Mac-Guff og, and be in waiting.” 
The officer left the room. 

The clank of irons was immediately afterwards heard upon 
the stair, and in two or three minutes a man was introduced, io 
handcuffed and fettered. He was thick, brawny, and mus- 
cular, and although his shagged and grizzled hair marked an 
age somewhat advanced, and his stature was rather low, he 
appeared, nevertheless, a person whom few would have 
chosen to cope with in personal conflict. His coarse and 15 
savage features were still flushed, and his eye still reeled 
under the influence of the strong potation which had proved 
the immediate cause of his seizure. But the sleep, though 
short, which Mac-Guffog had allowed him, and still more a 
sense of the peril’ of his situation, had restored to him the 20 
full use of his faculties. The worthy judge, and the no less 
estimable captive, looked at each other steadily for a long 
time without speaking. Glossin apparently recognized his 
prisoner, but seemed at a loss how to proceed with his in- 
vestigation. At length he broke silence. “Soh, Captain, 25 
this is you ? — you have been a stranger on this coast for some 
years.” 

“Stranger?” replied the other; “strange enough, I think 

— for hold me der deyvil, if I been ever here before.” 

“That won’t pass, Mr. Captain.” 30 

“That must pass, Mr. Justice — sapperment!” 

“And who will you be pleased to call yourself, then, for 
the present,” said Glossin, “just until I shall bring some 


220 


GUY MANN BRING 


other folks to refresh your memory, concerning who you are, 
or at least who you have been ? ” 

“ What bin I ? — donner and blitzen ! I bin Jans Janson, 
from Cuxhaven — what sail Ich bin ?” 

5 Glossin took from a case which was in the apartment a 
pair of small pocket pistols, which he loaded with ostentatious 
care. “You may retire,” said he to his clerk, “and carry 
the people with you, Scrow — but wait in the lobby within 
call.” 

io The clerk would have offered some remonstrances to his 
patron on the danger of remaining alone with such a desperate 
character, although ironed beyond the possibility of active 
exertion, but Glossin waved him off impatiently. When he 
had left the room, the Justice took two short turns through 
is the apartment, then drew his chair opposite to the prisoner, 
so as to confront him fully, placed the pistols before him in 
readiness, and said in a steady voice, “You are Dirk Hatter- 
aick of Flushing, are you not ? ” 

The prisoner turned his eye instinctively to the door, as 
20 if he apprehended some one was listening. Glossin rose, 
opened the door, so that from the chair in which his prisoner 
sat he might satisfy himself there was no eavesdropper 
within hearing, then shut it, resumed his seat, and repeated 
his question, “You are Dirk Hatteraick, formerly of the 
2 5 Yungfrauw Haagenslaapen, are you not?” 

“Tousand deyvils ! — and if you know that, why ask me ? ” 
said the prisoner. 

“Because I am surprised to see you in the very last place 
where you ought to be, if you regard your safety,” observed 
30 Glossin coolly. 

“Der deyvil ! — no man regards his own safety that speaks 
so to me!” 

“What? unarmed, and in irons! — well said, Captain!” 


GUY MANNERING 


221 


replied Glossin ironically. “But, Captain, bullying won’t do 
— you’ll hardly get out of this country without accounting 
for a little accident that happened at Warroch Point a few 
years ago.” 

Hatteraick’s looks grew black as midnight. 5 

“For my part,” continued Glossin, “I have no particular 
wish to be hard upon an old acquaintance — but I must do 
my duty — I shall send you off to Edinburgh in a post-chaise 
and four this very day.” 

“Poz donner! you would not do that?” said Hatteraick io 
in a lower and more humbled tone; “why, you had the 
matter of half a cargo in bills on Vanbeest and Vanbruggen.” 

“It is so long since, Captain Hatteraick,” answered Glossin 
superciliously, “that I really forget how I was recompensed 
for my trouble.” 15 

“Your trouble? your silence, you mean.” 

“It was an affair in the course of business,” said Glossin, 
“and I have retired from business for some time.” 

“Ay, but I have a notion that I could make you go steady 
about, and try the old course again,” answered Dirk Hatter- 20 
aick. “Why, man, hold me der deyvil, but I meant to visit 
you, and tell you something that concerns you.” 

“ Of the boy ?” said Glossin eagerly. 

“Yaw, Mynheer,” replied the Captain coolly. 

“He does not live, does he?” 25 

“As lifelich as you or I,” said Hatteraick. 

“Good God! — But in India?” exclaimed Glossin. 

“No, tousand deyvils, here! on this dirty coast of yours,” 
rejoined the prisoner. 

“But, Hatteraick, this, — that is, if it be true, which I do 30 
not believe, — this will ruin us both, for he cannot but re- 
member your neat job ; and for me — it will be productive of 
the worst consequences. It will ruin us both, I tell you.” 


222 


GUY MANNERING 


“I tell you,” said the seaman, “it will ruin none but you 
— for I am done up already, and if I must strap for it, all 
shall out.” 

“Stay — what can be done?” said Glossin anxiously. “I 
5 dare not discharge you — but might you not be rescued in the 
way — ay sure — a word to Lieutenant Brown, — and I 
would send the people with you by the coast-road.” 

“No, no ! that won’t do — Brown’s dead — shot — laid in 
the locker, man — the devil has the picking of him.” 
io “Dead? — shot? — at Woodbourne, I suppose?” replied 
Glossin. 

“Yaw, Mynheer.” 

Glossin paused — the sweat broke upon his brow with the 
agony of his feelings, while the hard-featured miscreant who 
15 sat opposite, coolly rolled his tobacco in his cheek, and squirted 
the juice into the fire-grate. “It would be ruin,” said Glossin 
to himself, “absolute ruin, if the heir should reappear — and 
then what might be the consequence of conniving with these 
men ? — yet there is so little time to take measures — Hark 
20 you, Hatteraick; I can’t set you at liberty — but I can put 
you where you may set yourself at liberty — I always like to 
assist an old friend. I shall confine you in the old castle for 
to-night, and give these people double allowance of grog. 
Mac-Guff og will fall in the trap in which he caught you. The 
25 stancheons on the window of the strong room, as they call it, 
are wasted to pieces, and it is not above twelve feet from the 
level of the ground without, and the snow lies thick.” 

“But the darbies,” said Hatteraick, looking upon his 
fetters. 

30 “Hark ye,” said Glossin, going to a tool-chest, and taking 
out a small file, “there’s a friend for you, and you know the 
road to the sea by the stairs.” Hatteraick shook his chains 
in ecstasy, as if he were already at liberty, and strove to extend 


GUY M ANNE RING 


223 


his fettered hand towards his protector. Glossin laid his 
finger upon his lips with a cautious glance at the door, and then 
proceeded in his inductions. “When you escape, you must 
remain snug at the Point of Warroch till I come to see you.” 

“The Point of Warroch?” said Hatteraick, his countenance 5 
again falling; “What, in the cave, I suppose? — I would 
rather it were anywhere else ; — es spuckt da ! — they say 
for certain that he walks 0 — But, donner and blitzen ! I never 
shunned him alive, and I won’t shun him dead — Strafe mich 
helle ! it shall never be said Dirk Hatteraick feared either dog 10 
or devil ! — So I am to wait there till I see you ?” 

“Ay, ay,” answered Glossin, “and now I must call in the 
men.” He did so, accordingly. 

“I can make nothing of Captain Janson, as he calls himself, 
Mac-Guff og, and it’s now too late to bundle him off to the is 
county jail. Is there not a strong room up yonder in the old 
castle?” 

“Ay is there, sir; my uncle the constable ance kept a man 
there for three days in auld Ellangowan’s time. But there 
was an unco dust about it° — it was tried in the Inner House 20 
afore the Feifteen.” 

“I know all that, but this person will not stay there very 
long — it’s only a makeshift for a night, a mere lock-up house 
till further examination. There is a small room through 
which it opens, you may light a fire for yourselves there, and 25 
I’ll send you plenty of stuff to make you comfortable. But 
be sure you lock the door upon the prisoner; and, hark ye, 
let him have a fire in the strong room too, the season requires 
it. Perhaps he’ll make a clean breast to-morrow.” 

With these instructions, and with a large allowance of food 30 
and liquor, the Justice dismissed his party to keep guard for 
the night in the old castle, under the full hope and belief that 
they would neither spend the night in watching nor prayer. 


224 


GUY M ANNE RING 


There was little fear that Glossin himself should that night 
sleep over sound. His situation was perilous in the extreme, 
for the schemes of a life of villainy seqpied at once to be 
crumbling around and above him. He laid himself to rest, 
5 and tossed upon his pillow for a long time in vain. 

The truth was, that, knowing much better than any other 
person the haunts of the smugglers, he had, while the others 
were searching in different directions, gone straight to the 
cave, even before he had learned the murder of Kennedy, 
io whom he expected to find their prisoner. He came upon 
them with some idea of mediation, but found them in the 
midst of their guilty terrors, while the rage, which had 
hurried them on to murder, began, with all but Hatteraick, 
to sink into remorse and fear. Glossin was then indigent and 
15 greatly in debt, but he was already possessed of Mr. Bertram’s 
ear, and, aware of the facility of his disposition, he saw no 
difficulty in enriching himself at his expense, provided the 
heir-male were removed, in which case the estate became the 
unlimited property of the weak and prodigal father. Stimu- 
20 lated by present gain and the prospect of contingent ad- 
vantages, he accepted the bribe which the smugglers offered 
in their terror, and connived at, or rather encouraged, their 
intention of carrying away the child of his benefactor, who, 
if left behind, was old enough to have described the scene of 
25 blood which he had witnessed. The only palliative which the 
ingenuity of Glossin could offer to his conscience was, that 
the temptation was great, and came suddenly upon him, 
embracing as it were the very advantages on which his mind 
had so long rested, and promising to relieve him from dis- 
30 tresses which must have otherwise speedily overwhelmed 
him. Besides, he endeavored to think that self-preservation 
rendered his conduct necessary. He was, in some degree, 
in the power of the robbers, and pleaded hard with his con- 


GUY MANNS! RING 


225 


'science, that, had he declined their offers, the assistance 
which he could have called for, though not distant, might 
not have arrived in time to save him from men, who, on less 
provocation, had just committed murder. 

Galled with the anxious forebodings of a guilty conscience, 5 
Glossin now arose, and looked out upon the night. The scene 
which we have already described in the third chapter of this 
story, was now covered with snow, and the brilliant, though 
waste, whiteness of the land, gave to the sea by contrast a 
dark and livid tinge. A landscape covered with snow, though 10 
abstractedly it may be called beautiful, has, both from the 
association of cold and barrenness, and from its compara- 
tive infrequency, a wild, strange, and desolate appearance. 
Objects, well known to us in their common state, have either 
disappeared, or are so strangely varied and disguised, that we 15 
seem gazing on an unknown world. But it was not with such 
reflections that the mind of this bad man was occupied. His 
eye was upon the gigantic and gloomy outlines of the old 
castle, where, in a flanking tower of enormous size and thick- 
ness, glimmered two lights, one from the window of the strong 20 
room, where Hatteraick was confined, the other from that of 
the adjacent apartment occupied by his keepers. “Has he 
made his escape, or will he be able to do so ? — Have these 
men watched, who never watched before, in order to com- 
plete my ruin? — If morning finds him there, he must be 25 
committed to prison ; Mac-Morlan or some other person will 
take the matter up — he will be detected — convicted — and 
will tell all in revenge ! ” 

While these racking thoughts glided rapidly through Glos- 
sin’s mind, he observed one of the lights obscured, as by an 30 
opaque body placed at the window. What a moment of 
interest! — “He has got clear of his irons! — he is working 
at the stanchions of the window — they are surely quite 
Q 


226 


GUY .M ANNE RING 


decayed, they must give way — O God! they have failed 
outward ; I heard them clink among the stones ! — the noise 
cannot fail to wake them — furies seize his Dutch awkward- 
ness ! — The light burns free again — they have torn him 
5 from the window, and are binding him in the room ! — No ! 
he had only retired an instant on the alarm of the falling bars 
— he is at the window again — and the light is quite obscured 

now — he is getting out ! ” 

A heavy sound, as of a body dropped from a height among 
io the snow, announced that Hatteraick had completed his 
escape, and shortly after Glossin beheld a dark figure, like 
a shadow, steal along the whitened beach, and reach the 
spot where the skiff lay. New cause for fear! “His single 
strength will be unable to float her,” said Glossin to himself ; 
15 “I must go to the rascal’s assistance. But no! he has got 
her off, and now, thank God, her sail is spreading itself 
against the moon — ay, he has got the breeze now — would 
to heaven it were a tempest, to sink him to the bottom ! ” 
After this last cordial wish, he continued watching the 
20 progress of the boat as it stood away towards the Point of 
Warroch, until he could no longer distinguish the dusky sail 
from the gloomy waves over which it glided. Satisfied then 
that the immediate danger was averted, he retired with some- 
what more composure to his guilty pillow. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


Why dost not comfort me, and help me out° 

From this unhallowed and blood-stained hole? 

Titus Andronicus. 

On the next morning, great was the alarm and confusion of 
the officers, when they discovered the escape of their prisoner. 
Mac-Giiffog appeared before Glossin with a head perturbed 
with brandy and fear, and incurred a most severe reprimand 
for neglect of duty. The resentment of the Justice appeared 5 
only to be suspended by his anxiety to recover possession of 
the prisoner, and the thief-takers, glad to escape from his 
awful and incensed presence, were sent off in every direction 
(except the right one) to recover their prisoner, if possible. 
Glossin particularly recommended a careful search at the 10 
Kaim of Derncleugh, which was occasionally occupied under 
night by vagrants of different descriptions. Having thus dis- 
persed his myrmidons in various directions, he himself 
hastened by devious paths through the Wood of Warroch, to 
his appointed interview with Hatteraick, from whom he hoped 15 
to learn at more leisure than last night’s conference admitted, 
the circumstances attending the return of the heir of Ellan- 
gowan to his native country. 

With manoeuvres like those of a fox when he doubles to 
avoid the pack, Glossin strove to approach the place of 20 
appointment in a manner which should leave no distinct 
track of his course. “Would to Heaven it would snow,” 
he said, looking upward, “and hide these footprints. Should 

227 


228 


GUY M ANNE RING 


one of the officers light upon them, he would run the scent 
up, like a bloodhound, and surprise us. — I must get down 
upon the sea-beach, and contrive to creep along beneath 
the rocks.” 

5 And accordingly, he descended from the cliffs with some 
difficulty, and scrambled along between the rocks and the 
advancing tide; now looking up to see if his motions were 
watched from the rocks above him, now casting a jealous 
glance to mark if any boat appeared upon the sea, from which 
io his course might be discovered. 

He crept forward to the cave, which was so near the spot 
where the body was found, that the smugglers might have 
heard from their hiding-place the various conjectures' of the 
bystanders concerning the fate of their victim. But nothing 
15 could be more completely concealed than the entrance to 
their asylum. The opening, not larger than that of a fox- 
earth, lay in the face of the cliff directly behind a large black 
rock, or rather upright stone, which served at once to conceal 
it from strangers, and as a mark to point out its situation 
20 to those who used it as a place of retreat. The space between 
the stone and the cliff was exceedingly narrow, and being 
heaped with sand and other rubbish, the most minute search 
would not have discovered the mouth of the cavern, without 
removing those substances which the tide had drifted before 
25 it. For the purpose of further concealment, it was usual 
with the contraband traders who frequented this haunt, after 
they had entered, to stuff the mouth with withered seaweed 
loosely piled together as if carried there by the waves. Dirk 
Hatteraick had not forgotten this precaution. 

30 Glossin, though a bold and hardy man, felt his heart throb, 
and his knees knock together, when he prepared to enter this 
den of secret iniquity, in order to hold conference with a 
felon, whom he justly accounted one of the most desperate 


GUY M ANNE RING 


229 


and depraved of men. “But he has no interest to injure 
me,” was his consolatory reflection. He examined his pocket- 
pistols, however, before removing the weeds and entering the 
cavern, which he did upon hands and knees. The passage, 
which at first was low and narrow, just admitting entrance to 5 
a man in a creeping posture, expanded after a few yards into 
a high arched vault of considerable width. The bottom, 
ascending gradually, was covered with the purest sand. 
Ere Glossin had got upon his feet, the hoarse yet suppressed 
voice of Hatteraick growled through the recesses of the cave. 10 

“Hagel and donnerl — be’st du?” 

“Are you in the dark?” 

“Dark? der deyvil ! ay,” said Dirk Hatteraick; “where 
should I have a glim?” 

“I have brought light” ; and Glossin accordingly produced 15 
a tinder-box, and lighted a small lantern. 

“You must kindle some fire too, for hold mich der deyvil, 
Ich bin ganz gefrorne ! ” 

“It is a cold place to be sure,” said Glossin, gathering 
together some decayed staves of barrels and pieces of wood, 2 o 
which had perhaps lain in the cavern since Hatteraick was 
there last. 

The flame then began to blaze brightly, and Hatteraick 
hung his bronzed visage,, and expanded his hard and sinewy 
hands over it, with an avidity resembling that of a famished 25 
wretch to whom food is exposed. The light showed his 
savage and stern features, and the smoke, which in his agony 
of cold he seemed to endure almost to suffocation, after 
circling round his head, rose to the dim and rugged roof of 
the cave, through which it escaped by some secret rents or 30 
clefts in the rock ; the same doubtless that afforded air to the 
cavern when the tide was in, fit which time the aperture to the 
sea was filled with water. 


230 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“And now I have brought you some breakfast,” said 
Glossin, producing some cold meat and a flask of spirits. 
The latter Hatteraick eagerly seized upon, and applied to his 
mouth ; and, after a hearty draught, he exclaimed with great 
5 rapture, “Das schmeckt ! — That is good — that warms the 
liver !” 

“Well said, my hearty Captain!” cried Glossin. “That’s 
it, . my bully-boy ! Why, you’re alive again now ! — And 
now let us talk about our business.” 
io “Your business, if you please,” said Hatteraick; “hagel 
and donner ! — mine was done when I got out of the bilboes.” 

“How came you to let the boy escape?” 

“Why, fluch and blitzen! he was no charge of mine. 
Lieutenant Brown gave him to his cousin that’s in the 
15 Middleburgh house of Vanbeest and Vanbruggen, and told 
him some goose’s gazette about his being taken in a skirmish 
with the land-sharks — he gave him for a foot-boy. Me let 
him escape ! — the bastard kinchin should have walked the 
plank ere I troubled myself about him.” 

20 “Well, and was he bred a foot-boy then?” 

“Nein, nein; the kinchin got about the old man’s heart, 
and he gave him his own name, and bred him up in the 
office, and then sent him to India — I believe he would have 
packed him back here, but his nephew told him it would 
25 do up the free trade for many a day, if the youngster got back 
to Scotland.” 

“How did he get back from India?” 

“Why, how should I know? — the house there was done up, 
and that gave us a shake at Middleburgh, I think — so they 
30 sent me again to see what could be done among my old 
acquaintances here — for we held old stories were done away 
and forgotten. So I had got a pretty trade on foot within 
the last two trips; but that stupid houndsfoot schelm, Brown, 


GUY M ANNE RING 


231 


has knocked it on the head again, I suppose, with getting 
himself shot by the colonel-man.” 

“Why were you not with them?” 

“Why, you see — sapperment ! I fear nothing — but it was 
too far within land, and I might have been scented.” 5 

“True. But to return to this youngster ” 

“Ay, ay, donner and blitzen ! he’s your affair,” said the 
Captain. 

“ — How do you really know that he is in this country?” 

“Why, Gabriel saw him up among the hills.” io 

“Gabriel! who is he?” 

“A fellow from the gypsies, that, about eighteen years since, 
was pressed on board that d — d fellow Pritchard’s sloop-of- 
war. It was he came off and gave us warning that the Shark 
was coming round upon us the day Kennedy was done ; 1 5 
and he told us how Kennedy had given the information. 
The gypsies and Kennedy had some quarrel besides. This 
Gab went to the East Indies in the same ship with your 
younker, and, sapperment I knew him well, though the 
other did not remember him. Gab kept out of his eye 20 
though, as he had served the States against England, and 
was a deserter to boot ; and he sent us word directly, that we 
might know of his being here — though it does not concern 
us a rope’s end.” 

“So, then, really, and in sober earnest, he is actually in 25 
this country, Hatteraick, between friend and friend ? ” asked 
Glossin seriously. 

“Wetter and donner, yaw ! What do you take me for?” 

“For a bloodthirsty, fearless miscreant!” thought Glossin 
internally; but said aloud, “And which of your people was 30' 
it that shot young Hazlewood?” 

“Sturm-wetter !” said the Captain, “do ye think we were 
mad ? — none of us, man — Gott ! the country was too hot 


232 


GUY M ANNE RING 


for the trade already with that d — d frolic of Brown’s, at- 
tacking what you call Woodbourne House.” 

“Why, I am told,” said Glossin, “it was Brown who shot 
Hazlewood ? ” 

5 “Not our lieutenant, I promise you; for he was laid six 
feet deep at Derncleugh the day before the thing happened. — 
Tausend deyvils, m$m ! do ye think that he could rise out of 
the earth to shoot another man ? ” 

A light here began to break upon Glossin’s confusion of 
io ideas. “Did you not say that the younker, as you call him, 
goes by the name of Brown ? ” 

“Of Brown? yaw — Vanbeest Brown; old Vanbeest 
Brown, of our Vanbeest and Vanbruggen, gave him his own 
name — he did.” 

is “Then,” said Glossin, rubbing his hands, “it is he, by 
Heaven, who has committed this crime!” 

“And what have we to do with that?” demanded Hatter- 
aick. 

Glossin paused, and, fertile in expedients, hastily ran over 
20 his project in his own mind, and then drew near the smug- 
gler with a confidential air. “You know, my dear Hatter- 
aick, it is our principal business to get rid of this young 
man?” 

“Umh !” answered Dirk Hatteraick. 

25 “Not,” continued Glossin — “not that I would wish any 
personal harm to him — if — if — if we can do without. Now, 
he is liable to be seized upon by justice, both as bearing the 
same name with your lieutenant, who was engaged in that 
affair at Woodbourne, and for firing at young Hazlewood with 
30 intent to kill or wound.” 

“Ay, ay,” said Dirk Hatteraick; “but what good will that 
do you? He’ll be loose again as soon as he shows himself to 
carry other colors.” 


GUY MANN BRING 


233 


“True, my dear Dirk ; well noticed, my friend Hatteraick ! 
But there is ground enough for a temporary imprisonment till 
he fetch his proofs from England or elsewhere, my good friend. 

I understand the law, Captain Hatteraick, and I’ll take it 
upon me, simple Gilbert Glossin of Ellangowan, justice of 5 

peace for the county of -, to refuse his bail, if he should 

offer the best in the country, until he is brought up for a second 
examination — now where d’ye think I’ll incarcerate him?” 

“Hagel and wetter! what do I care?” 

“Stay, my friend — you do care a great deal. Do you 10 
know your goods, that were seized and carried to Wood- 
bourne, are now lying in the Custom-house at Portanferry ?” 

(a small fishing-town). — “Now I will commit this 
younker ” 

“When you have caught him?” 15 

“Ay, ay, when I have caught him; I shall not be long 
about that — I will commit him to the Workhouse, or Bride- 
well, which you know is beside the Custom-house.” 

“Yaw, the Rasp-house; I know it very well.” 

“I will take care that the red-coats are dispersed through 20 
the country ; you land at night with the crew of your lugger, 
receive your own goods, and carry the younker Brown with 
you back to Flushing. Won’t that do?” 

“Ay, carry him to Flushing,” said the Captain, “or — to 
America?” 25 

“Psha! Wherever you have a mind.” 

“Ay, or — pitch him overboard?” 

“Nay, I advise no violence.” 

“Nein, nein — you leave that to me. Sturm-wetter ! I 
know you of old. But, hark ye, what am I, Dirk Hatteraick, 30 
to be the better of this ? ” 

“Why, is it not your interest as well as mine?” said Glos- 
sin; “besides, I set you free this morning.” 


234 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“You set me free! — Donner and deyvil ! I set myself 
free. Besides, it was all in the way of your profession, and 
happened a long time ago, ha, ha, ha!” 

“Pshaw! pshaw! don’t let us jest; I am not against 
5 making a handsome compliment — out it’s your affair as 
well as mine.” 

“What do you talk of my affair? is it not you that keep 
the younker’s whole estate from him ? Dirk Hatteraick 
never touched a stiver of his rents.” 
io “Hush — hush — I tell you it shall be a joint business.” 

“Why, will ye give me half the kitt?” 

“What, half the estate ? — d’ye mean we should setup house 
together at Ellangowan, and take the barony, ridge about?” 

“Sturm-wetter, no ! but you might give me half the value 
15 — half the gelt. Live with you ? nein — I would have a lust- 
haus of mine own on the Middleburgh dyke, and a blumen- 
garten like a burgomaster’s.” 

“Ay, and a wooden lion at the door, and a painted sentinel 
in the garden, with a pipe in his mouth ! — But, hark ye, 
20 Hatteraick ; what will all the tulips, and flower-gardens, and 
pleasure-houses in the Netherlands do for you, if you are 
hanged here in Scotland?” 

Hatteraick’s countenance fell. “Der deyvil! hanged?” 

“Ay, hanged, meinheer Captain. The devil can scarce 
25 save Dirk Hatteraick from being hanged for a murderer and 
kidnapper, if the younker of Ellangowan should settle in this 
country, and if the gallant Captain chances to be caught here 
re-establishing his fair trade ! And I won’t say, but, as peace 
is now so much talked of, their High Mightinesses may not 
30 hand him over to oblige their new allies, even if he remained 
in faderland.” 

“Poz liagel blitzen and donner! I — I doubt you say 
true.” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


235 


“Not,” said Glossin, perceiving lie had made the desired 
impression, “not that I am against being civil and he slid 
into Hatteraick’s passive hand a bank-note of some value. 

“Is this all?” said the smuggler; “you had the price of 
half a cargo for winking at our job, and made us do your 5 
business too.” 

“But, my good friend, you forget — in this case you will 
recover all your own goods.” 

“Ay, at the risk of all our own necks — we could do that 
without you.” 10 

“Nay, my friend,” said Glossin, “if you are turned chicken- 
hearted, why, the game’s up, that’s all — the game’s up with 
us both.” 

“Chicken-hearted? — No. I have not lived so long upon 
the account to start at last, neither for devil nor Dutchman. 15 
But if I thought the trade would not suffer, I would soon rid 
you of the younker, if you send me word when he’s under 
embargo.” 

In brief and undertones the two worthy associates con- 
certed their enterprise, and agreed at which of his haunts 20 
Hatteraick should be heard of. The stay of his lugger on the 
coast was not difficult, as there were no king’s vessels there at 
the time. 


CHAPTER XXXV 


You are one of those that will not serve God°if the devil 
bids you — 

Because we come to do you service, you think we are ruffians. 

Othello. 

When Glossin returned home, he found, among other letters 
and papers sent to him, one of considerable importance. It 
was signed by Mr. Protocol, an attorney in Edinburgh, and, 
addressing him as the agent of Godfrey Bertram, Esq., late 
5 of Ellangowan, and his representatives, acquainted him with 
the sudden death of Mrs. Margaret Bertram of Singleside, re- 
questing him to inform his clients thereof, in case they should 
judge it .proper to have any person present for their interest at 
opening the repositories of the deceased. Mr. Glossin per- 
io ceived at once that the letter- writer was unacquainted with the 
breach which had taken place between him and his late patron. 
The estate of the deceased lady should by rights, as he well 
knew, descend to Lucy Bertram ; but it was a thousand to one 
that the caprice of the old lady might have altered its destina- 
15 tion. After running over contingencies and probabilities in 
his fertile mind, to ascertain what sort of personal advantage 
might accrue to him from this incident, he could not perceive 
any mode of availing himself of it, except in' so far as it might 
go to assist his plan of recovering, or rather creating, a 
20 character, the want of which he had already experienced, and 
was likely to feel yet more deeply. “I must place myself,” he 
236 


GUY M ANNE RING 


237 


thought, “on strong ground, that, if anything goes wrong with 
Dirk Hatteraick’s project, I may have prepossessions in my 
favor at least.” — Besides, to do Glossin justice, bad as he 
was, he might feel some desire to compensate to Miss Bertram 
in a small degree, and in a case in which his own interest did 5 
not interfere with hers, the infinite mischief which he had oc- 
casioned to her family. He therefore resolved early the next 
.morning to ride over to Woodbourne. 

He did not announce himself until he was at the door of 
the breakfast-parlor, when the servant, by his desire, said 10 
aloud — “Mr. Glossin, to wait upon Miss Bertram.” Lucy, 
remembering the last scene of her father’s existence, turned as 
pale as death, and had well-nigh fallen from her chair. Julia 
Mannering flew to her assistance, and they left the room to- 
gether. There remained Colonel Mannering and Charles is 
Hazlewood, with his arm in a sling. ^ 

That honest gentleman, though somewhat abashed by the 
effect of his first introduction, advanced with confidence, and 
hoped he did not intrude upon the ladies. Colonel Manner- 
ing, in a very upright and stately manner, observed, that he 20 
did not know to what he was to impute the honor of a visit 
from Mr. Glossin. 

“Hem! hem! I took the liberty to wait upon Miss Ber- 
tram, Colonel Mannering, on account of a matter of business.” 

“If it can be communicated to Mr. Mac-Morlan, her agent, 25 
sir, I believe it will be more agreeable to Miss Bertram.” 

“I beg pardon, Colonel Mannering,” said Glossin, making 
a wretched attempt at an easy demeanor ; “you are a man of 
the world — there are some cases in which it is most prudent 
for all parties to treat with principals.” 30 

“Then,” replied Mannering, with a repulsive air, “if Mr. 
Glossin will take the trouble to state his object in a letter, 1 
will answer that Miss Bertram pays proper attention to it. 


238 


GUY M ANNE RING 


Have you any objection to communicate to me, as Miss 
Bertram’s temporary guardian, the circumstances which you 
conceive to interest her?” 

“None, Colonel Mannering; she could not choose a more 
5 respectable friend, or one with whom I, in particular, would 
more anxiously wish to communicate frankly.” 

“Have the goodness to speak to the point, sir, if you 
please.” 

“Why, sir, it is not so easy all at once — but Mr. Hazle- 
io wood need not leave the room, — I mean so well to Miss 
Bertram, that I could wish the whole world to hear my part 
of the conference.” 

“My friend Mr. Charles Hazlewood will not probably be 
anxious, Mr. Glossin, to listen to what cannot concern him — 
is and now, when he has left us alone, let me pray you to be 
short and explicit^in what you have to say. I am a soldier, 
sir, somewhat impatient of forms and introductions.” So 
saying he drew himself up in his chair, and waited for Mr. 
Glossin’s communication. 

20 “Be pleased to look at that letter,” said Glossin, putting 
Protocol’s epistle into Mannering’s hand, as the shortest way 
of stating his business. 

The Colonel read it, and returned it, after penciling the 
name of the writer in his memorandum-book. “This, sir, 
25 does not seem to require much discussion — I will see that 
Miss Bertram’s interest is attended to.” 

“But, sir, — but, Colonel Mannering,” added Glossin, 
“there is another matter which no one can explain but my- 
self. This lady — this Mrs. Margaret Bertram, to my certain 
30 knowledge, made a general settlement of her affairs in Miss 
Lucy Bertram’s favor while she lived with my old friend, 
Mr. Bertram, at Ellangowan. The Dominie — that was the 
name by which my deceased friend always called that very 


GUY MANNERING 


239 


respectable man Mr. Sampson — he and I witnessed the 
deed. And she had full power at that time to make such 
a settlement, for she was in fee of the state of Singleside even 
then, although it was life-rented by an elder sister. It was a 
whimsical settlement of old Singleside’s, sir ; he pitted the 5 • 
two cats his daughters against each other, ha, ha, ha P’ 

“Well, sir,” said Mannering, without the slightest smile of 
sympathy, “but to the purpose. You say that this lady had 
power to settle her estate on Miss Bertram, and that she 
did so?” 10 

“Even so, Colonel,” replied Glossin. “I think I should 
understand the law — I have followed it for many years, and 
though I have given it up to retire upon a handsome com- 
petence, I did not throw away that knowledge which is pro- 
nounced better than house and land. I have a little, a very 15 
little law yet, at the service of my friends.” 

Glossin ran on in this manner,. thinking he had made a 
favorable impression on Mannering. The Colonel let Mr. 
Glossin get to the end of his self-congratulations, and then 
asked him if he knew where the deed was ? 20 

“I know — that is, I think — I believe I can recover it — In 
such cases custodiers have sometimes made a charge.” 

“We won’t differ as to tMt, sir,” said the Colonel, taking 
out his pocket-book. 

“But, my dear sir, you take me so very short — I said some 25 
persons might make such a claim — I mean for payment of the 
expenses of the deed, trouble in the affair, etc. But I, for my 
own part, only wish Miss Bertram and her friends to be 
satisfied that I am acting towards her with honor. There’s 
the paper, sir ! It would have been a satisfaction to me to 30 
have delivered it into Miss Bertram’s own hands, and to have 
wished her joy of the prospects which it opens. But since her 
prejudices on the subject are invincible, it only remains for 


240 


GUY MANN BRING 


me to transmit her my best wishes through you, Colonel 
Mannering, and to express that I shall willingly give my 
testimony in support of that deed when I shall be called 
upon. I have the honor to wish you a good morning, sir.” 

5 This parting speech was so well got up, and had so much 
the tone of conscious integrity unjustly suspected, that even 
Colonel Mannering was staggered in his bad opinion. He 
followed him two or three steps, and took leave of him with 
more politeness (though still cold and formal) than he had 
io paid during his visit. Glossin left the house half pleased 
with the impression he had made, half mortified by the stern 
caution and proud reluctance with which he had been re- 
ceived. “Colonel Mannering might have had more polite- 
ness,” he said to himself — “it is not every man that can 
15 bring a good chance of £400 a year to a penniless girl. Single- 
side 0 must be up to £400 a year now — there’s Reilageganbed, 
Gillifidget, Loverless, Liealone, and the Spinster’s Knowe 
— good £100 a year. Some people might have made their 
own of it in my place — and yet, to own the truth, after 
20 much consideration, I don’t see how T that is possible.” 

Glossin was no sooner mounted and gone, than the Colonel 
despatched a groom for Mr. Mac-Morlan, and, putting the 
deed into his hand, requested £0 know if it was likely to be 
available to his friend Lucy Bertram. Mac-Morlan perused 
25 it with eyes that sparkled with delight, snapped his fingers 
repeatedly, and at length exclaimed, “Available ! — it’s as 
tight as a glove — naebody could make better wark than 
Glossin, when he didna let down a steek° on purpose. — But 

(his countenance falling) the auld b , that I should say 

30 so, might alter at pleasure ! ” 

“Ah ! And how shall we know whether she has done so ?” 
“Somebody must attend on Miss Bertram’s part, when the 
repositories of the deceased are opened.” 


GUY MANN BRING 


241 


“Can you go?” said the Colonel. 

“I fear I cannot,” replied Mac-Morlan; “I Aust attend a 
jury trial before our court.” 

“Then I will go myself,” said the Colonel ; “I’ll set out to- 
morrow. Sampson shall go with me — he is witness to this 5 
settlement. But I shall want a legal adviser ? ” 

“The gentleman that was lately Sheriff of this county is 
high in reputation as a barrister; I will give you a card of 
introduction to him.” K 

“What I like about you, Mr. Mac-Morlan,” said the 10 
Colonel, “is, that you always come straight to the point. 
Let me have it instantly — shall we tell Miss Lucy her 
chance of becoming an heiress?” 

“Surely, because you must have some powers from her, 
which I will instantly draw out. Besides, I will be caution 15 
for her prudence, and that she will consider it only in the light 
of a chance.” 

Mac-Morlan judged well. It could not be discerned from 
Miss Bertram’s manner that she founded exulting hopes upon 
the prospect thus unexpectedly opening before her. She did 20 
indeed, in the course of the evening, ask Mr. Mac-Morlan, 
as if by accident, what might be the annual income of the 
Hazlewood property ; but shall we therefore aver for certain 
that she was considering whether an heiress of four hundred 
a year might be a suitable match for the young Laird ? 25 


R 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


Give me a cup of sack, 0 to make mine eyes look red — For 
I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses’ 
vein. 

Henry IV., Part I. 

Mannering, with Sampson for his companion, lost no time 
in his journey to Edinburgh. They travelled in the Colonel’s 
post-chariot, who, knowing his companion’s habits of abstrac- 
tion, did not choose to lose him out of his own sight, far less 
5 to trust him on horseback, where, in all probability, a knavish 
stable-boy might with little address have contrived to mount 
him with his face to the tail. Accordingly, with the aid of 
his valet, who attended on horseback, he contrived to bring 
Mr. Sampson safe to an inn in Edinburgh, — for hotels in 
io those days there were none, — without any other accident 
than arose from his straying twice upon the road. 

As soon as they arrived in Edinburgh, and were estab- 
lished at the George Inn near Bristo Port, then kept by old 
Cockburn (I love to be particular), the Colonel desired the 
1 5 waiter to procure him a guide to Mr. Pleydell’s, the advo- 
cate, for whom he had a letter of introduction from Mr. 
Mac-Morlan. He then commanded Barnes to have an eye 
to the Dominie, and walked forth with a chairman, 0 who was 
to usher him to the man of law. 

20 Under the guidance of his trusty attendant, Colonel Man- 
nering, after threading a dark lane or two, reached the High 
242 


GUY M ANNE RING 


243 


Street, then clanging with the voices of oyster-women and the 
bells of pie-men; for it had, as his guide assured him, just 
“chappit eight upon the Tron.” It was long since Mannering 
had been in the street of a crowded metropolis, which, with 
its noise and clamor, its sounds of trade, of revelry and of 5 
licence, its variety of lights, and the eternally changing bustle 
of its hundred groups, offers, by night especially, a spectacle, 
which, though composed of the most vulgar materials when 
they are separately considered, has, when they are combined, 
a striking and powerful effect on the imagination. The ex- 10 
traordinary height of the houses was marked by lights, which, 
glimmering irregularly along their front, ascended so high 
among the attics, that they seemed at length to twinkle in the 
middle sky. 

Mannering had not much time to look and to admire. 15 
His conductor hurried him across this striking scene, and 
suddenly dived with him into a very steep paved lane. Turn- 
ing to the right, they entered a scale-staircase, as it is called, 
the state of which, so far as it could be judged of by one of 
his senses, annoyed Mannering’ s delicacy not a little. When 20 
they had ascended cautiously to a considerable height, they 
heard a heavy rap at a door, still two stories above them. 
The door opened, and immediately ensued the sharp and 
worrying bark of a dog, the squalling of a woman, the screams 
of an assaulted cat, and the hoarse voice of a man, who cried 25 
in a most imperative tone, “Will ye, Mustard? will ye? — 
down, sir ! down ! ” 

“Lord preserve us!” said the female voice, “an he had 
worried our cat, Mr. Pleydell would ne’er hae forgi’en me!” 

“ Aweel, my doo, the cat’s no a prin the waur — So he’s no 30 
in, ye say?” 

“Na, Mr. Pleydell’s ne’er in the house on Saturday at 
e’en,” answered the female voice. 


244 


GUY MANNERING 


“And the morn’s Sabbath too,” said the querist; “I dinna 
ken what will be done.” 

By this time Mannering appeared, and found a tall strong 
countryman, clad in a coat of pepper-and-salt colored mixture, 
5 with huge metal buttons, a glazed hat and boots, and a large 
horsewhip beneath his arm, in colloquy with a slipshod 
damsel, who had in one hand the lock of the door, and in the 
other a pail of whiting, or camstane, as it is called, mixed with 
water — a circumstance which indicates Saturday night in 

io Edinburgh. 

“So Mr. Pleydell is not at home, my good girl?” said 
Mannering. 

“Ay, sir, he’s at hame, but he’s no in the house : he’s aye 
out on Saturday at e’en.” 

15 “But, my good girl, I am a stranger, and my business ex- 
press — Will you tell me where I can find him ? ” 

“His honor,” said the chairman, “will be at Clerihugh’s 
jabout this time — Hersell could hae tell’d ye that, but she 
thought ye wanted to see his house.” 

20 “Well, then, show me to this tavern — I suppose he will 
see me, as I come on business of some consequence?” 

“I dinna ken, sir,” said the girl, “he disna like to be dis- 
turbed on Saturdays wi’ business — but he’s aye civil to 
strangers.” 

25 “I’ll gang to the tavern too,” said our friend Dinmont, “for 
I am a stranger also, and on business e’en sic like.” 

“Na,” said the handmaiden, “an he see the gentleman, 
he’ll see the simple body too — but, Lord’s sake, dinna say it 
was me sent ye there ! ” 

30 “Atweel, I am a simple body, that’s true, hinny, but I am 
no come to steal ony o’ his skeel for naething,” said the 
farmer in his honest pride, and strutted away downstairs, 
followed by Mannering and the cadie. Mannering could not 


GU¥ M ANNE RING 


245 


help admiring the determined stride with which the stranger 
who preceded them divided the press, shouldering from him, 
by the mere weight and impetus of his motion, both drunk 
and sober passengers. Following in the wake of this first- 
rate, Mannering proceeded till the farmer made a pause, 5 
and, looking back to the chairman, said, “I’m thinking this 
w’ill be the close, friend?” 

“Ay, ay,” replied Donald, “tat’s ta close.” 

Dinmont descended confidently, then turned into a dark 
alley — then up a dark stair — and then into an open door, io 
While he was whistling shrilly for the waiter, as if he had been 
one of his collie dogs, Mannering looked round him, and 
could hardly conceive how a gentleman of a liberal profession, 
and good society, should choose such a scene for social in- 
dulgence. Besides the miserable entrance, the house itself 15 
seemed paltry and half ruinous. The passage in which they 
stood had a window to the close, which admitted a little 
light during the daytime, and a villainous compound of 
smells at all times, but more especially towards evening. 
Corresponding to this window was a borrowed light on the 20 
other side of the passage, looking into the kitchen, which had 
no direct communication with the free air, but received in the 
daytime, at second hand, such straggling and obscure light 
as found its way from the lane through the window opposite. 
With some difficulty a waiter was prevailed upon to show 25 
Colonel Mannering and Dinmont the room where their 
friend, learned in the law, held his hebdomadal 0 carousals. 
The scene which it exhibited, and particularly the attitude of 
the counsellor himself, the principal figure therein, struck 
his two clients with amazement. 30 

Mr. Pleydell was a lively, sharp-looking gentleman, with a 
professional shrewdness in his eye, and, generally speaking, 
a professional formality in his manners. But this, like his 


246 


GUY MANNERING 


three-tailed wig and black coat, he could slip off on a Saturday 
evening, when surrounded by a party of jolly companions, and 
disposed for what he called his altitudes. On the present 
occasion, the revel had lasted since four o’clock, and, at 
5 length, under the direction of a venerable compotator, who 
had shared the sports and festivity of three generations, the 
frolicsome company had begun to practise the ancient and 
now forgotten pastime of High- Jinks. This game was played 
in several different ways. Most frequently the dice were 
i o thrown by the company, and those upon whom the lot fell 
were obliged to assume and maintain, for a time, a certain 
fictitious character, or to repeat a certain number of fescen- 
nine verses in a particular order. If they departed from the 
characters assigned, or if their memory proved treacherous in 
is the repetition, they incurred forfeits, which were either com- 
pounded for by swallowing an additional bumper, or by pay- 
ing a small sum towards the reckoning. At this sport the 
jovial company were closely engaged, when Mannering 
entered the room. 

20 Mr. Counsellor Pleydell, such as we have described him, 
was enthroned, as a monarch, in an elbow-chair, placed on the 
dining-table, his scratch wig on one side, his head crowned 
with a bottle-slider, his eye leering with an expression betwixt 
fun and the effects of wine, while his court around him re- 
25 sounded with such crambo scraps of verse as these 

Where is Gerunto now ? and what’s become of him? 

Gerunto’s drowned because he could not swim, etc., etc. 

At the sound of “Mr. Dinmont and Colonel Mannering 
wanting to speak to you, sir,” Pleydell turned his head, and 
30 blushed a little when he saw the very genteel figure of the 
English stranger. He was, however, of the opinion of Falstaff, 
“Out, ye villains, play out the play!” wisely judging it the 


GUY M ANNE RING 


247 


better way to appear totally unconcerned. “Where be our 
guards?” exclaimed the second Justinian, 0 “see ye not a 
stranger knight from foreign parts arrived at this our court of 
Holyrood, — with our bold yeoman Andrew Dinmont, who 
has succeeded to the keeping of our royal flocks within the 5 
forest of Jedwood, where, thanks to our royal care in the 
administration of justice, they feed as safe as if they were 
within the bounds of Fife? Where be our heralds, 0 our 
pursuivants, 0 our Lyon,° our Marchmount, our Carrick, 
and our Snowdown? Let the strangers be placed at our io 
board, and regaled as beseemeth their quality, and this our 
high holiday — to-morrow we will hear their tidings.” 

“So please you, my liege, to-morrow’s Sunday,” said one 
of the company. 

“Sunday, is it? then we will give no offence to the assembly is 
of the kirk — on Monday shall be their audience.” 

Mannering, who had stood at first uncertain whether to 
advance or retreat, now resolved to enter for the moment into 
the whim of the scene, though internally fretting at Mac- 
Morlan for sending him to consult with a crack-brained 20 
humorist. He therefore advanced with three profound con- 
gees, and craved permission to lay his credentials at the feet 
of the Scottish monarch, in order to be perused at his best 
leisure. The gravity with which he accommodated himself to 
the humor of the moment, and the deep and humble inclina- 25 
tion with which he at first declined, and then accepted, a seat 
presented by the master of the ceremonies, procured him 
three rounds of applause. 

“Deil hae me, if they arena a’ mad thegither!” said Din- 
mont, occupying with less ceremony a seat at the bottom of 30 
the table, “or else they hae taen Yule before it comes, and 
are gaun a-guisarding.” 

“And now,” said Mannering, “since we have unwarily 


248 


GUY MANNERING 


intruded upon your majesty at a moment of mirthful retire- 
ment, be pleased to say when you will indulge a stranger with 
an audience on those affairs of weight which have brought 
him to your northern capital/’ 

5 The monarch opened Mac-Morlan’s letter, and, running it 
hastily over, exclaimed, with his natural voice and manner, 
“Lucy Bertram of Ellangowan, poor dear lassie!” 

“A forfeit! a forfeit!” exclaimed a dozen voices; “his 
majesty has forgot his kingly character.” 
io “Not a whit! not a whit!” replied the king; “I’ll be 
judged by this courteous knight. May not a monarch love a 
maid of low degree ? Is not King Cophetua and the Beggar- 
maid, an adjudged case in point?” 

“Professional! professional! — another forfeit,” exclaimed 
15 the tumultuary nobility. 

“Had not our royal predecessors,” continued the monarch, 
exalting his sovereign voice to drown these disaffected clamors, 
— “Had they not their Jean Logies, 0 their Bessie Car- 
michaels, their Oliphants, their Sandilands, and their Weirs, 
20 and shall it be denied to us even to name a maiden whom 
we delight to honor? Nay, then, sink state and perish 
sovereignty ! for, like a second Charles V.,° we will abdicate, 
and seek in the private shades of life those pleasures which are 
denied to a throne.” 

25 So saying, he flung away his crown, and sprung from his 
exalted station with more agility than could have been ex- 
pected from his age, ordered lights and a wash-hand basin and 
towel, with a cup of green tea, into another room, and made 
a sign to Mannering to accompany him. In less than two 
30 minutes he washed his face and hands, settled his wig in the 
glass, and, to Mannering’s great surprise, looked quite a 
different man from the childish Bacchanal 0 he had seen a 
moment before. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


249 


“There are folks,” he said, “Mr. Mannering, before whom 
one should take care how they play the fool — because they 
have either too much malice, or too little wit, as the poet says. 
The best compliment I can pay Colonel Mannering, is to show 
I am not ashamed to expose myself before him — and truly I 5 
think it is a compliment I have not spared to-night on your 
good-nature. — But what’s that great strong fellow wanting ? ” 

Dinmont, who had pushed after Mannering into the room, 
began with a scrape with his foot and a scratch of his head in 
unison. “I am Dandie Dinmont, sir, of the Charlies-hope — 10 
the Liddesdale lad — ye’ll mind me? — it was for me ye won 
yon grand plea.” 

“What plea, you loggerhead?” said the lawyer; “d’ye 
think I can remember all the fools that come to plague me ? ” 

“Lord, sir, it was the grand plea about the grazing o’ the 15 
Langtae Head ! ” said the farmer. 

“Well, curse thee, never mind ; give me the memorial 1 and 
come to me on Monday at ten,” replied the learned counsel. 

“But, sir, I haena got ony distinct memorial.” 

“No memorial, man?” said Pleydell. 20 

“Na, sir, nae memorial,” answered Dandie; “for your 
honor said before, Mr. Pleydell, ye’ll mind, that ye liked 
best to hear us hill-folk tell our ain tale by word o’ mouth.” 

“Beshrew my tongue that said so!” answered the coun- 
sellor ; “it will cost my ears a dinning. — Well, say in two 25 
words what you’ve got to say — you see the gentleman waits.” 

“Ou, sir, if the gentleman likes he may play his ain spring 0 
first ; it’s a’ ane to Dandie.” 

“Now, you looby,” said the lawyer, “cannot you conceive 
that your business can be nothing to Colonel Mannering, but 30 
that he may not choose to have these great ears of thine 
regaled with his matters?” 

1 The Scottish memorial corresponds to the English brief. 


250 


GUY MANNERING 


“Aweel, sir, just as you and he like — so ye see to my 
business,” said Dandie, not a whit disconcerted by the rough- 
ness of this reception. “ We’re at the auld wark o’ the 
marches again, Jock o’ Dawston Cleugh and me. Ye see 
5 we march on the tap o’ Touthop Rigg after we pass the 
Pomoragrains ; for the Pomoragrains, and Slackenspool, and 
Bloodylaws, they come in there, and they belang to the Peel ; 
but after ye pass Pomoragrains at a muckle great saucer- 
headed cutlugged stane, that they ca’ Charlie’s Chuckie, there 
io Dawston Cleugh and Charlies-hope they march. Now, I say, 
the march rins on the tap o’ the hill where the wind and 
water shears; but Jock o’ Dawston Cleugh again, he con- 
travenes that, and says, that it hauds down by the auld 
drove-road that gaes awa by the Knot o’ the Gate ower to 
15 Keeldar Ward — and that makes an unco difference.” 

“And what difference does it make, friend?” said Pleydell. 
“How many sheep will it feed?” 

“Ou, no mony,” said Dandie, scratching his head, — “it’s 
lying high and exposed — it may feed a hog, or aiblins twa 
20 in a good year.” 

“And for this grazing, which may be worth about five 
shillings a year, you are willing to throw away a hundred 
pounds or two?” 

“Na, sir, it’s no for the value of the grass,” replied Din- 
25 mont; “it’s for justice.” 

“My good friend,” said Pleydell, “justice, like charity, 
should begin at home. Do you justice to your wife and 
family, and think no more about the matter.” 

“Ay, sir?” said Dandie, in a disappointed tone. “So ye 
30 winna take on wi’ me, I’m doubting?” 

“Me ! not I — go home, go home, take a pint and agree.” 
Dandie looked but half contented, and still remained sta- 
tionary. “Anything more, my friend?” 


GUY MANNERING 


251 


“Only, sir, about the succession of this leddy that’s dead, 
auld Miss Margaret Bertram o’ Singleside.” 

“Ay, what about her?” said the counsellor, rather sur- 
prised. 

“Ou, we have nae connection at a’ wi’ the Bertrams,” said 5 
Dandie, — “they were grand folk by the like o’ us. — But Jean 
Liltup, that was auld Singleside’s housekeeper, and the mother 
of these twa young ladies that are gane — the last o’ them’s 
dead at a ripe age, I trow — Jean Liltup came out o’ Liddel- 
water, and she was as near our connection as second cousin 10 
to my mother’s half-sister — She drew up wi’ Singleside, nae 
doubt, when she was his housekeeper, and it was a sair vex 
and grief to a’ her kith and kin. But he acknowledged a 
marriage, and satisfied the kirk — and now I wad ken frae you 
if we hae not some claim by law ? ” 15 

“Not the shadow of a claim.” 

“Aweel, we’re nae puirer,” said Dandie, — “but she may 
hae thought on us if she was minded to make a testament. 

— Weel, sir, I’ve said my say — I’se e’en wish you good- 
night, and ” putting his hand in his pocket. 20 

“No, no, my friend ; I never take fees on Saturday nights, 
or without a memorial — away with you, Dandie.” And 
Dandie made his reverence, and departed accordingly. 


CHAPTER XXXVII 


But this poor farce 0 has neither truth, nor art, 

To please the fancy or to touch the heart. 

Dark but not awful, dismal but yet mean, 

With anxious bustle moves the cumbrous scene, 
Presents no objects tender or profound, 

But spreads its cold unmeaning gloom around. 

Parish Register. 

“Your majesty/’ said Mannering, laughing, “has solem- 
nized your abdication by an act of mercy and charity — That 
fellow will scarce think of going to law/’ 

“Oh, you are quite wrong/’ said the experienced lawyer. 

5 “The only difference is, I have lost my client and my fee. 
He’ll never rest till he finds somebody to encourage him to 
commit the folly he has predetermined. And now to our 
business. I am glad my old friend Mac-Morlan has sent 
you to me ; he is an active, honest, and intelligent man, long 

io Sheriff-substitute of the county of under me, and still 

holds the office. He knows I have a regard for that unfor- 
tunate family of Ellangowan, and for poor Lucy. I have 
not seen her since she was twelve years old, and she was then 
a sweet pretty little girl under the management of a very 
15 silly father. But my interest in her is of an early date. I 
was called upon, Mr. Mannering, being then Sheriff of that 
county, to investigate the particulars of a murder which had 
been committed near Ellangowan the day on which this poor 
child was born; and which, by a strange combination that 
20 I was unhappily not able to trace, involved the death or 

252 


GUY M ANNE RING 


253 


abstraction of her only brother, a boy of about five years 
old. No, Colonel, I shall never forget the misery of the 
house of Ellangowan that morning ! — the father half- 
distracted — the mother dead in premature travail — the 
helpless infant, with scarce any one to attend it, coming 5 
wawling and crying into this miserable world at such a mo- 
ment of unutterable misery. But come, I am losing my 
Saturday at e’en — will you have the kindness to trust me 
with these papers which relate to Miss Bertram’s business ? — 
and stay — to-morrow you’ll take a bachelor’s dinner with an io 
old lawyer, — I insist upon it, at three precisely — and come 
an hour sooner. — The old lady is to be buried on Monday ; 
it is the orphan’s cause, and we’ll borrow an hour from the 
Sunday to talk over this business — although I fear nothing 
can be done if she has altered her settlement — unless per- *5 
haps it occurs within the sixty days, and then if Miss Bertram 
can show that she possesses the character of heir-at-law, 
why 

“But, hark! my lieges are impatient of their interregnum 0 

— I do not invite you to rejoin us, Colonel ; it would be a 20 
trespass on your complaisance, unless you had begun the day 
with us, and gradually glided on from wisdom to mirth, and 
from mirth to — to — to — extravagance. - — Good night 

— Harry, go home with Mr. Mannering to his lodging — 
Colonel, I expect you at a little past two to-morrow.” And 25 
with this remark they parted until dinner-time. 

From the awkward access to the lawyer’s mansion, Manner- 
ing was induced to form very moderate expectations of the 
entertainment which he was to receive. The approach looked 
even more dismal by daylight than on the preceding evening. 30 
The houses on each side of the lane were so close, that the 
neighbors might have shaken hands with each other from 
the different sides, and occasionally the space between was 


254 


GUY M ANNE RING 


traversed by wooden galleries, and thus entirely closed up. 
The stair, the scale-stair, was not well cleaned ; and on enter- 
ing the house, Mannering was struck with the narrowness 
and meanness of the wainscotted passage. But the library, 
5 into which he was shown by an elderly respectable-looking 
man-servant, was a complete contrast to these unpromising 
appearances. It was a well-proportioned room, hung wdth a 
portrait or two of Scottish characters of eminence, by Jamie- 
son, the Caledonian Vandyke, 0 and surrounded with books, 
io the best editions of the best authors, and, in particular, an 
admirable collection of classics. 

“These,” said Pleydell, “are my tools of trade. A lawyer 
without history or literature is a mechanic, a mere working 
mason; if he possesses some knowledge of these, he may 
is venture to call himself an architect.” 

When Mr. Pleydell had sufficiently enjoyed the surprise of 
his guest, he called his attention to Miss Bertram’s affairs. 
“I was in hopes,” he said, “though but faint, to have dis- 
covered some means of ascertaining her indefeasible right to 
20 this property of Singleside ; but my researches have been in 
vain. The old lady was certainly absolute fiar, and might 
dispose of it in full right of property. All that we have to 
hope is, that the devil may not have tempted her to alter this 
very proper settlement. You must attend the old girl’s 
2 5 funeral to-morrow, to which you will receive an invitation, 
for I have acquainted her agent with your being here on 
Miss Bertram’s part; and I will meet you afterwards at the 
house she inhabited, and be present to see fair play at the 
opening of the settlement.” 

30 Three gentlemen now appeared, and were introduced to the 
stranger. They were men of good sense, gayety, and general 
information, so that the day passed very pleasantly over ; and 
Colonel Mannering assisted, about eight o’clock at night, 


GUY M ANNE RING 


255 


in discussing the landlord’s bottle, which was, of course, a 
magnum . 0 Upon his return to the inn, he found a card in- 
viting him to the funeral of Miss Margaret Bertram, late of 
Singleside, which was to proceed from her own house to the 
place of interment in the Greyfriars churchyard, at one o’clock 5 
afternoon. 

At the appointed hour, Mannering went to a small house in 
the suburbs to the southward of the city, where he found the 
place of mourning, indicated, as usual in Scotland, by two 
rueful figures with long black cloaks, white crapes and hat- 10 
bands, holding in their hands poles, adorned with melancholy 
streamers of the same description. By two other mutes, who, 
from their visages, seemed suffering under the pressure of 
some strange calamity, he was ushered into the dining-parlor 
of the defunct, where the company were assembled for the 15 
funeral. 

In Scotland, the custom, now disused in England, of 
inviting the relations of the deceased to the interment, is 
universally retained. On many occasions this has a singular 
and striking effect, but it degenerates into mere empty form 20 
and grimace, in cases where the defunct has had the mis- 
fortune to live unbeloved and die unlamented. Mrs. Mar- 
garet Bertram was unluckily one of those whose good qualities 
had attached no general friendship. She had no near re- 
lations who might have mourned from natural affection, 25 
and therefore her funeral exhibited merely the exterior 
trappings of sorrow. 

Mannering, therefore, stood among this lugubrious com- 
pany of cousins in the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth degree, 
composing his countenance to the decent solemnity of all 30 
who were around him, and looking as much concerned on 
Mrs. Margaret Bertram’s account, as if the deceased lady 
of Singleside had been his own sister or mother. After a deep 


256 


GUY MANNERING 


and awful pause, the company began to talk aside — under 
their breaths, however, and as if in the chamber of the dying 
person. 

“Our poor friend/’ said one grave gentleman, scarcely 
S opening his mouth, for fear of deranging the necessary solem- 
nity of his features, and sliding his whisper from between 
his lips, which were as little unclosed as possible, — “Our 
poor friend has died well to pass in the world .” 0 

“Nae doubt,” answered the person addressed, with lialf- 
io closed eyes; “poor Mrs. Margaret was aye careful of the 
gear — But there’s Mr. Mortcloke to tell us they are gaun 
to lift.” 

Mr. Mortcloke the undertaker did accordingly, "with a visage 
of professional length and most grievous solemnity, distribute 
15 among the pall-bearers little cards, assigning their respective 
situations in attendance upon the coffin. As this precedence 
is supposed to be regulated by propinquity to the defunct , 0 the 
undertaker, however skilful a master of these lugubrious cere- 
monies, did not escape giving some offence. To be related to 
20 Mrs. Bertram was to be of kin to the lands of Singleside, and 
was a propinquity of which each relative present at that 
moment was particularly jealous. Some murmurs there were 
on the occasion, and our friend Dinmont gave more open 
offence, being unable either to repress his discontent, or to 
25 utter it in the key properly modulated to the solemnity. “I 
think ye might hae at least gi’en me a leg o’ her to carry,” 
he exclaimed, in a voice considerably louder than propriety 
admitted; “God! an it hadna been for the rigs o’> land, I 
would hae gotten her a’ to carry mysell, for as mony gentles 
30 as are here.” 

A score of frowning and reproving brows were bent upon 
the unappalled yeoman, who, having given vent to his dis- 
pleasure, stalked sturdily downstairs with the rest of the 


GUY M ANNE RING 


257 


company, totally disregarding the censures of those whom 
his remarks had scandalized. 

And then the funeral pomp set forth; saulies with their 
batons, 0 and gumphions of tarnished white crape, in honor of 
the well-preserved maiden fame of Mrs. Margaret Bertram. 5 
Six starved horses, themselves the very emblems of mortality, 
well cloaked and plumed, lugging along the hearse with its 
dismal emblazonry, crept in slow state towards the place of 
interment, preceded by Jamie Duff, an idiot, who, with 
weepers and cravat made of white paper, attended on every ic 
funeral, and followed by six mourning coaches, filled with 
the company. Many of these now gave more free loose to 
their tongues, and discussed with unrestrained earnestness 
the amount of the succession, and the probability of its 
destination. The principal expectants, however, kept a 1 5 
prudent silence, indeed, ashamed to express hopes which 
might prove fallacious; and the agent, or man of business, 
who alone knew exactly how matters stood, maintained a 
countenance of mysterious importance, as if determined 
to preserve the full interest of anxiety and suspense. 20 

At length they arrived at the churchyard gates, and from 
thence, amid the gaping of two or three dozen of idle women 
with infants in their arms, and accompanied by some twenty 
children, who ran gambolling and screaming alongside of the 
sable procession, they finally arrived at the burial-place of the 25 
Singleside family. 

Here then, amid the deep black fat loam into which her 
ancestors were now resolved, they deposited the body of Mrs. 
Margaret Bertram ; and, like soldiers returning from a military 
funeral, the nearest relations who might be interested in the 30 
settlements of the lady, urged the dog-cattle 0 of the hackney 
coaches to all the speed of which they were capable, in order 
to put an end to further suspense on that interesting topic, 
s 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


Die and endow a college or a cat.° 

Pope. 

There is a fable told by Lucian, that while a troop of 
monkeys, well drilled by an intelligent manager, were per- 
forming a tragedy with great applause, the decorum of the 
whole scene was at once destroyed, and the natural passions 
5 of the actors called forth into very indecent and active emu- 
lation, by a wag who threw a handful of nuts upon the stage. 
In like manner, the approaching crisis stirred up among the 
expectants feelings of a nature very different from those, of 
which, under the superintendence of Mr. Mortcloke, they 
io had but now been endeavoring to imitate the expression. 
Those eyes which were lately devoutly cast up to heaven, 
or with greater humility bent solemnly upon earth, were now 
sharply and alertly darting their glances through shuttles, 
and trunks, and drawers, and cabinets, and all the odd 
15 corners of an old maiden lady’s repositories. Nor was their 
search without interest, though they did not find the will 
of which they were in quest. 

Here was a promissory note for £20 by the minister of the 
nonjuring chapel, interest marked as paid to Martinmas last, 
20 carefully folded up in a new set of words to the old tune of 
“Over the Water to Charlie” ; — there, was curious love cor- 
respondence between the deceased and a certain Lieutenant 
O’Kean of a marching regiment of foot ; and tied up with the 
letters was a document, which at once explained to the 
25 relatives why a connection that boded them little good had 

258 


GUY MANNERING 


259 


been suddenly broken off, being the Lieutenant’s bond for 
two hundred pounds, upon which no interest whatever 
appeared to have been paid. . Other bills and bonds to a 
larger amount, and signed by better names (I mean com- 
mercially) than those of the worthy divine and gallant soldier, 5 
also occurred in the course of their researches, besides a hoard 
of coins of every size and denomination, and scraps of broken 
gold and silver, old ear-rings, hinges of cracked snuff-boxes, 
mountings of spectacles, etc., etc., etc. Still no will made 
its appearance, and Colonel Mannering began full well to 10 
hope that the settlement which he had obtained from Glossin 
contained the ultimate arrangement of the old lady’s affairs. 
But his friend Pleydell, who now came into the room, cautioned 
him against entertaining this belief. 

“I am well acquainted with the gentleman,” he said, “who 15 
is conducting the search, and I guess from his manner that he 
knows something more of the matter than any of us.” Mean- 
time, while the search proceeds, let us take a brief glance at 
one or two of the company, who seem most interested. 

Of Dinmont, who, with his large hunting-whip under his 20 
arm, stood poking his great round face over the shoulder of 
the homme d’affaires , 0 it is unnecessary to say anything. That 
thin-looking oldish person, in a most correct and gentleman- 
like suit of mourning, is Mac-Casquil, formerly of Drumquag, 
who was ruined by having a legacy bequeathed to him of two 25 
shares in the Ayr bank. His hopes on the present occasion 
are founded on a very distant relationship, upon his sitting in 
the same pew with the deceased every Sunday, and upon his 
playing at cribbage 0 with her regularly on the Saturday even- 
ings — taking great care never to come off a winner. That 30 
other coarse-looking man, wearing his own greasy hair tied in 
a leathern cue more greasy still, is a tobacconist, a relation of 
Mrs. Bertram’s mother, who, having a good stock in trade 


260 


GUY MANNERING 


when the colonial war broke out, trebled the price of his 
commodity to all the world, Mrs. Bertram alone excepted, 
whose tortoise-shell snuff-box was weekly filled with the best 
rappee 0 at the old prices, because the maid brought it to the 
5 shop with Mrs. Bertram’s respects to her cousin Mr. Quid. 
That young fellow, who has not had the decency to put off 
his boots and buckskins, 0 might have stood as forward as most 
of them in the graces of the old lady, who loved to look upon 
a comely young man; but it is thought he has forfeited the 
i o moment of fortune, by sometimes neglecting her tea-table 
when solemnly invited ; sometimes appearing there, when he 
had been dining with blither company; twice treading upon 
her cat’s tail, and once affronting her parrot. 

To Mannering, the most interesting of the group was the 
is poor girl, who had been a sort of humble companion of the 
deceased, as a subject upon whom she could at all times 
expectorate her bad humor. She was for form’s sake dragged 
into the room by the deceased’s favorite female attendant, 
where, shrinking into a corner as soon as possible, she saw 
20 with wonder and affright the intrusive researches of the 
strangers amongst those recesses to which from childhood 
she had looked with awful veneration. This girl was regarded 
with an unfavorable eye by all the competitors, honest Din- 
mont only excepted ; the rest conceived they should find in her 
25 a formidable competitor, whose claims might at least en- 
cumber and diminish their chance of succession. Yet she 
was the only person present who seemed really to feel sorrow 
for the deceased. Mrs. Bertram had been her protectress, 
although from selfish motives, and her capricious tyranny was 
30 forgotten at the moment while the tears followed each other 
fast down the cheeks of her frightened and friendless depen- 
dant. “There’s ower muckle saut water there, Drumquag,” 
said the tobacconist to the ex-proprietor, “to bode ither folk 


GUY MANNERING 


261 


muckle gude. Folk seldom greet that gate but they ken what 
it’s for.” Mr. Mac-Casquil only replied with a nod, feeling 
the propriety of asserting his superior gentry in presence of 
Mr. Pleydell and Colonel Mannering. 

“Very queer if there suld be nae will after a’, friend,” said 5 
Dinmont, who began to grow impatient, to the man of busi- 
ness. 

“A moment’s patience, if you please — she was a good and 
prudent woman, Mrs. Margaret Bertram — a good and pru- 
dent and well-judging woman, and knew how to choose friends io 
and depositories — she may have put her last will and testa- 
ment, or rather her mortis causa settlement, 0 as it relates to 
heritage, into the hands of some safe friend.” 

“I’ll bet a rump and dozen,” said Pleydell, whispering to 
the Colonel, “he has got it in his own pocket”; — then is 
addressing the man of law, “Come, sir, we’ll cut this short if 
you please — here is a settlement of the estate of Singleside, 
executed several years ago, in favor of Miss Lucy Bertram of 

Ellangowan ” The company stared fearfully wild, 

“You, I presume, Mr. Protocol, can inform us if there is a 20 
later deed?” 

“Please to favor me, Mr. Pleydell”; — and so saying, he 
took the deed out of the learned counsel’s hand, and glanced 
his eye over the contents. 

“Too cool,” said Pleydell, “too cool by half — he has 25 
another deed in his pocket still.” 

“Why does he not show it then, and be d — d to him I” 
said the military gentleman, whose patience began to wax 
threadbare. 

“Why, how should I know?” answered the barrister, — 3c 
“why does a cat not kill a mouse when she takes him ? — the 
consciousness of power and the love of teasing, I suppose. — 
Well, Mr. Protocol, what say you to that deed?” 


262 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“Why, Mr. Pleydell, the deed is a well-drawn deed, properly 
authenticated and tested in forms of the statute.” 

“But recalled or superseded by another of posterior date 
in your possession, eh?” said the counsellor* 

5 “Something of the sort, I confess, Mr. Pleydell,” rejoined 
the man of business, producing a bundle tied with tape, and 
sealed at each fold and ligation with black wax. “That deed, 
Mr. Pleydell, which you produce and found upon, is dated 
1st June 17 — ; but this” — breaking the seals and unfolding 
io the document slowly — “is dated the 20th — no, I see it is the 
21st, of April of this present year, being ten years posterior.” 

“Marry, hang her, brock!” said the counsellor, borrowing 
an exclamation from Sir Toby Belch, 0 “just the month in 
which Ellangowan’s distresses became generally public. But 
is let us hear what she has done.” 

The deed was of an unexpected nature. It set forth with 
conveying and disponing all and whole the estate and lands 
of Singleside and others, with the lands of Loverless, Liealone, 
Spinster’s Knowe, and heaven knows what beside, “to and 
20 in favor of (here the reader softened his voice to a gentle 
and modest piano) Peter Protocol, clerk to the signet, having 
the fullest confidence in his capacity and integrity — (these 
are the very words which my worthy deceased friend insisted 
upon my inserting) — But in trust always” (here the reader 
25 recovered his voice and style, and the visages of several of the 
hearers, which had attained a longitude that Mr. Mortcloke 
might have envied, were perceptibly shortened), “in trust 
always, and for the uses, ends, and purposes hereinafter- 
mentioned.” 

30 In these “uses, ends, and purposes,” lay the cream of the 
affair. The first was introduced by a preamble setting forth, 
that the testatrix was lineally descended from the ancient 
house of EUangowan, her respected great-grandfather, An- 


GUY MANNERING 


263 


drew Bertram, first of Singleside, of happy memory, having 
been second son to Allan Bertram, fifteenth Baron of Ellan- 
gowan. It proceeded to state, that Henry Bertram, son and 
heir of Godfrey Bertram, now of Ellangowan, had been stolen 
from his parents in infancy, but that she, the testatrix, was well 5 
assured that he was yet alive in foreign parts, and by the provi- 
dence of heaven would be restored to the possessions of his an- 
cestors — in which case the said Peter Protocol was bound 
and obliged, like as he bound and obliged himself, by accept- 
ance of the presents, to denude himself of the said lands of io 
Singleside and others, and of all the other effects thereby con- 
veyed (excepting always a proper gratification for his own 
trouble) to and in favor of the said Henry Bertram upon his 
return to his native country. And during the time of his 
residence in foreign parts, or in case of his never again return- is 
ing to Scotland, Mr. Peter Protocol, the trustee, was directed 
to distribute the rents of the land, and the interest of the other 
funds (deducting always a proper gratification for his trouble 
in the premises), in equal portions, among four charitable 
establishments pointed out in the will. The power of manage- 20 
ment, of letting leases, of raising and lending out money, in 
short, the full authority of a proprietor, was vested in this 
confidential trustee, and, in the event of his death, went to 
certain official persons named in the deed. There were only 
two legacies; one of a hundred pounds to a favorite waiting- 25 
maid, another of the like sum to Janet Gibson (whom the deed 
stated to have been supported by the charity of the testatrix) 

? or the purpose of binding her an apprentice to some honest 
trade. 

There was a profound silence after the deed had been read 30 
over. Mr. Pleydell was the first to speak. He begged to 
look at the deed, and having satisfied himself that it was 
correctly drawn and executed, he returned it without any 


264 


GUY MANNERING 


observation, only saying aside to Mannering, “Protocol is 
not worse than other people, I believe ; but this old lady has 
determined that, if he do not turn rogue, it shall not be for 
want of temptation.” 

5 “I really think,” said Mr. Mac-Casquil of Drumquag, who, 
having gulped down one half of his vexation, determined to 
give vent to the rest, “I really think this is an extraordinary 
case ! I should like now to know from Mr. Protocol, who, 
being sole and unlimited trustee, must have been consulted 
io upon this occasion ; I should like, I say, to know, how Mrs. 
Bertram could possibly believe in the existence of a boy, that 
a’ the world kens was murdered many a year since?” 

“Really, sir,” said Mr. Protocol, “I do not conceive it is 
possible for me to explain her motives more than she has 
15 done herself. Our excellent deceased friend was a good 
woman, sir — a pious woman — and might have grounds for 
confidence in the boy’s safety which are not accessible to 
us, sir.” 

“Hout,” said the tobacconist, “I ken very weel what were 
20 her grounds for confidence. There’s Mrs. Rebecca (the maid) 
sitting there, has tell’d me a hundred times in my ain shop, 
there was nae kenning how her leddy wad settle her affairs, 
for an auld gypsy witch wife at Gilsland had possessed her 
with a notion, that the callant — Harry Bertram ca’s she 
25 him? — would come alive again some day after a’ — ye’ll no 
deny that, Mrs. Rebecca? — though I dare to say ye forgot 
to put your mistress in mind of what ye promised to say 
when I gied ye mony a half-crown — But ye’ll no deny 
what I am saying now, lass?” 

30 “I ken naething at a’ about it,” answered Rebecca dog- 
gedly, and looking straight forward with the firm counte- 
nance of one not disposed to be compelled to remember more, 
than was agreeable to her. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


265 


“Weel said, Rebecca! ye’re satisfied \vi’ your ain share 
ony way,” rejoined the tobacconist. 

The buck of the second-head, 0 for a buck of the first-head 
he was not, had hitherto been slapping his boots with his 
switch-whip, and looking like a spoiled child that had lost 5 
its supper. His murmurs, however, were all vented inwardly, 
or at most in a soliloquy such as this — “I am sorry I ever 
plagued myself about her — I came here one night to drink 
tea, and I left King, and the Duke’s rider, Will Hack. They 
were toasting a round of running horses ; I might have got 10 
leave to wear the jacket 0 as well as other folk, if I had carried 
it on with them — and she has not so much as left me that 
hundred !” 

“We’ll make the payment of the note quite agreeable,” said 
Mr. Protocol, who had no wish to increase at that moment 15 
the odium attached to his office — “And now, gentlemen, I 
fancy we have no more to wait for here, and — I shall put the 
settlement of my excellent and worthy friend on record to- 
morrow, that every gentleman may examine the contents, 
and have free access to take an extract; and” — he proceeded 20 
to lock up the repositories of the deceased with more speed 
than he had opened them — “Mrs. Rebecca, ye’ll be so kind 
as to keep all right here until we can let the house — I had an 
offer from a tenant this morning, if such a thing should be, 
and if I was to have any management.” 25 

Our friend Dinmont, having had his hopes as well as 
another, had hitherto sat sulky enough in the arm-chair 
formerly appropriated to the deceased, and in which she 
would have been not a little scandalized to have seen this 
colossal specimen of the masculine gender lolling at length. 30 
His employment had been rolling up, into the form of a coiled 
snake, the long lash of his horsewhip, and then by a jerk 
causing it to unroll itself into the middle of the floor. The 


266 


GUY M ANNE RING 


first words he said when he had digested the shock, contained 
a magnanimous declaration, which he probably was not con- 
scious of having uttered aloud — “ Weel — blude’s thicker than 
water — she’s welcome to the cheeses and the hams just the 
5 same.” But when the trustee had made the above-mentioned 
motion for the mourners to depart, and talked of the house 
being immediately let, honest Dinmont got upon his feet, and 
stunned the company with this blunt question, “And what’s 
to come o’ this poor lassie then, Jenny Gibson ? Sae mony 
xo o’ us as thought oursells sib to the family when the gear was 
parting, we may do something for her amang us surely.” 

This proposal seemed to dispose most of the assembly 
instantly to evacuate the premises, although upon Mr. Proto- 
col’s motion they had lingered as if around the grave of their 
15 disappointed hopes. Drumquag said, or rather muttered, 
something of having a family of his own, and took precedence, 
in virtue of his gentle blood, to depart as fast as possible. 
The tobacconist sturdily stood forward, and scouted the 
motion — “A little huzzie, like that, was weel eneugh provided 
20 for already; and Mr. Protocol at ony rate was the proper 
person to take direction of her, as he had charge of her 
legacy” ; and after uttering such his opinion in a steady and 
decisive tone of voice, he also left the place. The buck made 
a stupid and brutal attempt at a jest upon Mrs. Bertram’s 
25 recommendation that the poor girl should be taught some 
honest trade ; but encountered a scowl from Colonel Manner- 
ing’s darkening eye (to whom, in his ignorance of the tone of 
good society, he had looked for applause) that made him ache 
to the very backbone. He shuffled downstairs, therefore, as 
30 fast as possible. 

Protocol, who was really a good sort of man, next expressed 
his intention to take a temporary charge of the young lady, 
under protest always, that his so doing should be considered 


GUY M ANNE RING 267 

as merely eleemosynary; when Dinmont at length got up, 
and, having shaken his huge dreadnought great-coat, as a 
Newfoundland dog does his shaggy hide when he comes out of 
the water, ejaculated, “ Weel, deil hae me then, if ye hae ony 
fash wi’ her, Mr. Protocol, if she likes to gang hame wi’ me, 5 
that is. Ye see, Ailie and me we’re weel to pass, and we 
would like the lassies to hae a wee bit mair lair than oursells, 
and to be neighbor-like — that wad we. — And ye see Jenny 
canna miss but to ken manners, and the like o’ reading books, 
and sewing seams — having lived sae lang wi’ a grand lady like 10 
Lady Singleside; or if she disna ken ony thing about it, I’m 
jealous that our bairns will like her a’ the better. And I’ll 
take care o’ the bits o’ claes, and what spending siller she 
maun hae, so the hundred pound may rin on in your hands, 
Mr. Protocol, and I’ll be adding something till’t, till she’ll is 
maybe get a Liddesdale joe that wants something to help to 
buy the hirsel . 1 — What d’ye say to that, hinny ? I’ll take out 
a ticket for ye in the fly to Jethart — odd, but ye maun take a 
powny after that o’er the Limestane-rig — deil a wheeled 
carriage ever gaed into Liddesdale : 2 — And I’ll be very glad 20 
if Mrs. Rebecca comes wi’ you, hinny, and stays a month or 
twa while ye’re stranger like.” 

While Mrs. Rebecca was curtseying, and endeavoring to 
make the poor orphan girl curtsey instead of crying, and while 

1 The stock of sheep. 

2 The roads of Liddesdale, in Dandie Dinmont’s days, 
could not be said to exist, and the district was only acces- 
sible through a succession of tremendous morasses. About 
thirty years ago, the author himself was the first person who 
ever drove a little open carriage into these wilds : the excel- 
lent roads by which they are now traversed being then in 
some progress. The people stared with no small wonder 
at a sight which many of them had never witnessed in their 
lives before. 


268 


GUY MANNERING 


Dandie, in his rough way, was encouraging them both, old 
Pleydell had recourse to his snuff-box. “It’s meat and drink 
to me, now, Colonel,” he said, as he recovered himself, “to 
see a clown like this — I must gratify him in his own way, — 
5 must assist him to ruin himself — there’s no help for it. Here, 
you Liddesdale — Dandie — Charlies-hope — what do they 
call you?” 

The farmer turned, infinitely gratified even by this sort of 
notice ; for in his heart, next to his own landlord, he honored 
io a lawyer in high practice. 

“So you will not be advised against trying that question 
about your marches ? ” 

“No — no, sir — naebody likes to lose their right, and to be 
laughed at down the haill water. But since your honor’s no 
is agreeable, and is maybe a friend to the other side like, we 
maun try some other advocate.” 

“There — I told you so, Colonel Mannering ! — Well, sir, if 
you must needs be a fool, the business is to give you the 
luxury of a lawsuit at the least possible expense, and to bring 
20 you off conqueror if possible. Let Mr. Protocol send me 
your papers, and I will advise him how to conduct your cause. 
I don’t see, after all, why you should not have your lawsuits 
too, and your feuds in the Court of Session, as well as your 
forefathers had their manslaughters and fire-raisings.” 

2 5 “Very natural, to be sure, sir. We w T ad just take the auld 
gate as readily, if it werena for the law. And as the law binds 
us, the law should loose us. Besides, a man’s aye the better 
thought o’ in our country for having been afore the Feifteen.” 

“Excellently argued, my friend ! Away with you, and send 
30 your papers to me. — Come, Colonel, we have no more to do 
here.” 

“God, we’ll ding Jock o’ Dawston Cleugh now after a’ !” 
said Dinmont, slapping his thigh in great exultation. 


CHAPTER XXXIX 


— I am going to the parliament ; ° 

You understand this bag : If you have any business 
Depending there, be short, and let me hear it, 

And pay your fees. 

Little French Lawyer. 

“ Shall you be able to carry this honest fellow’s cause for 
him?” said Mannering. 

“Why, I don’t know ; the battle is not to the strong, but he 
shall come off triumphant over Jock of Dawston if we can 
make it out. I owe him something. It is the pest of our 5 
profession that we seldom see the best side of human nature. 

In civilized society, law is the chimney through which all that 
smoke discharges itself that used to circulate through the 
whole house, and put every one’s eyes out — no wonder, 
therefore, that the vent itself should sometimes get a little 10 
sooty. But we will take care our Liddesdaleman’s cause is 
well conducted and well argued, so all unnecessary expense 
will be saved — he shall have his pineapple 0 at wholesale 
price.” 

“Will you do me the pleasure,” said Mannering, as they 15 
parted, “to dine with me at my lodgings? my landlord says 
he has a bit of red-deer venison, and some excellent wine.” 

“Venison — eh?” answered the counsellor alertly, but 
presently added — “But no ! it’s impossible — and I can’t ask 
you home neither. Monday’s a sacred day — so’s Tuesday — 20 
and Wednesday, we are to be heard in the great teind case in 

269 


270 


GUY M ANNE RING 


presence — but stay — it’s frosty weather, and if you don’t 
leave town, and that venison would keep till Thursday ” 

“You will dine with me that day?” 

“Under certification.” 

S “Well, then, I will indulge a thought I had of spending a 
week here ; and if the venison will not keep, why, we will see 
what else our landlord can do for us.” 

“Oh, the venison vrill keep,” said Pleydell ; “and now good- 
bye.” And away walked Mr. Pleydell with great activity, 
1 0 diving through closes and ascending covered stairs, in order 
to attain the High Street by an access, which, compared to 
the common route, was what the Straits of Magellan are to 
the more open, but circuitous passage round Cape Horn. 

Upon the Thursday appointed, Mr. Pleydell made his 
15 appearance at the inn where Colonel Mannering lodged. 
The venison proved in high order, the claret excellent, and 
the learned counsel, a professed amateur in the affairs of the 
table, did distinguished honor to both. I am uncertain, how- 
ever, if even the good cheer gave him more satisfaction than 
20 the presence of Dominie Sampson, from whom, in his own 
juridical style of wit, he contrived to extract great amusement, 
both for himself and one or two friends whom the Colonel 
regaled on the same occasion. 

By degrees the rest of the party dropped off, and left these 
25 three gentlemen together. Their conversation turned to 
Mrs. Bertram’s settlements. “Now what could drive it 
into the noddle 0 of that old harridan,” 0 said Pleydell, “to 
disinherit poor Lucy Bertram, under pretence of settling her 
property on a boy who has been so long dead and gone?” 

30 Colonel Mannering took this opportunity to request Mr. 
Pleydell to inform him of the particulars attending the loss of 
the boy; and the counsellor, who was fond of talking upon 
subjects of criminal jurisprudence, especially when connected 


GUY MANNERING 


271 


with his own experience, went through the circumstances at 
full length. “And what is your opinion upon the result of the 
whole?” 

“Oh, that Kennedy was murdered : it’s an old case which 
has occurred on that coast before now — the case of Smuggler 5 
versus Exciseman.” 

“What then is your conjecture concerning the fate of the 
child?” 

“Oh, murdered too, doubtless,” answered Pleydell. “He 
was old enough to tell what he had seen, and these ruthless 10 
scoundrels would not scruple committing a second Bethlehem 
massacre if they thought their interest required it.” 

The Dominie groaned deeply, and ejaculated, “Enormous ! ” 

“Yet there was mention of gypsies in the business too, 
counsellor,” said Mannering, “and from what that vulgar- 15 
looking fellow said after the funeral ” 

“Mrs. Margaret Bertram’s idea that the child was alive 
was founded upon the report of a gypsy,” said Pleydell, catch- 
ing at the half-spoken hint — “I envy you the concatenation, 
Colonel — it is a shame to me not to have drawn the same 20 
conclusion. We’ll follow this business up instantly — Here, 
hark ye, waiter, go down to Luckie Wood’s in the Cowgate; 
ye’ll find my clerk. Driver ; he’ll be set down to High-Jinks 
by this time (for we and our retainers, Colonel, are exceedingly 
regular in our irregularities) ; tell him to come here instantly, 25 
and I will pay his forfeits.” 

The waiter soon re-entered with Mr. Driver, his mouth 
still greasy with mutton pies, and the froth of the last draught 
of twopenny yet unsubsided on his upper lip, with such speed 
had he obeyed the commands of his principal. — “Driver, you 30 
must go instantly and find out the woman who was old Mrs. 
Margaret Bertram’s maid. Inquire for her everywhere, but 
if you find it necessary to have recourse to Protocol, Quid 


272 


GUY MANNER1NG 


the tobacconist, or any other of these folks, you will take care 
not to appear yourself, but send some woman of your acquaint- 
ance — I dare say you know enough that may be so con- 
descending as to oblige you. When you have found her 
5 out, engage her to come to my chambers to-morrow at eight 
o’clock precisely.” 

“What shall I say to make her forthcoming?” asked the 
aide-de-camp. 

“Anything you choose,” replied the lawyer. “Is it my 
io business to make lies for you, do you think? But let her be 
in proBsentia 0 by eight o’clock, as I have said before.” The 
clerk grinned, made his reverence, and exit. 

“That’s a useful fellow,” said the counsellor; “I don’t 
believe his match ever carried a process. He’ll write to my 
is dictating three nights in the week without sleep, or, what’s 
the same thing, he writes as well and correctly when he’s 
asleep as when he’s awake. But you’ll come and breakfast 
with me to-morrow, and hear this woman’s examination ? ” 

“Why, your hour is rather early.” 

20 “Can’t make it later. If I were not on the boards of the 
Outer House precisely as the nine-hours bell rings, there 
would be a report that I had got an apoplexy, and I should 
feel the effects of it all the rest of the session.” 

“Well, I will make an exertion to wait upon you.” 

25 H?re the company broke up for the evening. 

In the morning Colonel Mannering appeared at the coun- 
sellor’s chambers, although cursing the raw air of a Scottish 
morning in December. Mr. Pleydell had got Mrs. Rebecca 
installed on one side of his fire, accommodated her with a cup 
30 of chocolate, and was already deeply engaged in conversation 
with her. “Oh no, I assure jou, Mrs. Rebecca, there is no 
intention to challenge your mistress’s will ; and I rive you my 
word of honor that your legacy is quite safe. You have 


GUY M ANNE RING 


273 


deserved it by your conduct to your mistress, and I wish it 
had been twice as much.” 

“Why, to be sure, sir, it’s no right to mention what is said 
before ane — ye heard how that dirty body Quid cast up to me 
the bits o’ compliments he gied me, and tell’d owre again 5 
ony loose cracks I might hae had wi’ him; now if ane was 
talking loosely to your honor, there’s nae saying what might 
come o’t.” 

“I assure you, my good Rebecca, my character and your 
own age and appearance are your security, if you should talk 10 
as loosely as an amatory poet.” 

“Aweel, if your honor thinks I am safe — the story is just 
this. — Ye see, about a year ago, or no just sae lang, my leddy 
was advised to go to Gilsland for a while, for her spirits were 
distressing her sair. Ellango wan’s troubles began to be 15 
spoken o’ publicly, and sair vexed she was — for she was 
proud o’ her family. For Ellango wan himsell and her, they 
sometimes ’greed, and sometimes no — but at last they didna 
’gree at a’ for twa or three year — for he was aye wanting to 
borrow siller, and that was what she couldna bide at no hand, 20 
and she was aye wanting it paid back again, and that the 
Laird he liked as little. So, at last, they were clean aff 
thegither. And then some of the company at Gilsland tells 
her that the estate was to be sell’d ; and ye wad hae thought 
she had taen an ill will at Miss Lucy Bertram frae that mo- 25 
ment, for mony a time she cried to me, ‘O Becky, O Becky, 
if that useless peenging tiling o’ a lassie there, at Ellangowan, 
that canna keep her ne’er-do-weel father within bounds — 
if she had been but a lad-bairn, they couldna hae sell’d the 
auld inheritance for that fool-body’s debts’ ; — and she would 30 
rin on that way till I was just wearied and sick to hear her 
ban the puir lassie, as if she wadna hae been a lad-bairn, and 
keepit the land, if it had been in her will to change her sect. 

T 


274 


GUY M ANNE RING 


And ae day at the spaewell below the craig at Gilsland, she 
was seeing a very bonny family o’ bairns — they belanged 
to ane Mac-Crosky — and she broke out — ‘Is not it an odd 
like thing that ilka waf carle 1 in the country has a son and 
5 heir, and that the house of Ellangowan is without male 
succession?’ There was a gypsy wife stood ahint and heard 
her — a muckle sture fearsome-looking wife she was as ever 
I set een on. — ‘Wha is it,’ says she, ‘that dare say the 
house of Ellangowan will perish without male succession?’ 
io My mistress just turned on her — she was a high-spirited 
woman, and aye ready wi’ an answer to a’ body. ‘It’s me 
that says it,’ says she, ‘that may say it with a sad heart.’ 
Wi’ that the gypsy wife gripped till her hand; ‘I ken you 
weel eneugh,’ says she* ‘though ye kenna me — But as 
is sure as that sun’s in heaven, and as sure as that water’s 
rinning to the sea, and as sure as there’s an ee that sees, and 
an ear that hears us baith — Harry Bertram, that was thought 
to perish at Warroch Point, never did die there — he was to 
have a weary weird o’t till his ane-an-twentieth year, that 
20 was aye said o’ him — but if ye live and I live, ye’ll hear 
mair o’ him this winter before the snaw lies twa days on the 
Dun of Singleside — I want nane o’ your siller,’ she said, 
‘ to make ye think I am blearing your ee — fare ye weel till 
after Martimas’ ; — and there she left us standing.” 

25 “Was she a very tall woman?” interrupted Mannering. 

“Had she black hair, black eyes, and a cut above the 
brow?” added the lawyer. 

“She was the tallest woman I ever saw, and her hair was 
as black as midnight, unless where it was gray, and she had a 
30 scar abune the brow, that ye might hae laid the lith of your 
finger in. Naebody that’s seen her will ever forget her; and 
I am morally sure that it was on the ground o’ what that 
. 1 Every insignificant churl. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


275 


gypsy-woman said that my mistress made her will, having taen 
a dislike at the young leddy o’ Ellangowan ; and she liked her 
far waur after she was obliged to send her £20 — for she said, 
Miss Bertram, no content wi’ letting the Ellangowan property 
pass into strange hands, owing to her being a lass and no as 
lad, was coming, by her poverty, to be a burden and a disgrace 
to Singleside too. — But I hope my mistress’s is a good will 
for a’ that, for it would be hard on me to lose the wee bit 
legacy — I served for little fee and bountith, weel I wot.” 

The counsellor relieved her fears on this head, then inquired io 
after Jenny Gibson, and understood she had accepted Mr. 
Dinmont’s offer; “and I have done sae mysell too, since he 
was sae discreet as to ask me,” said Mrs. Rebecca; “they are 
very decent folk the Dinmonts, though my lady didna dow to 
hear muckle about the friends on that side the house. But is 
she liked the Charlies-hope hams, and the cheeses, and the 
muir-fowl, that they were aye sending, and the lamb’s-wool 
hose and mittens — she liked them weel eneugh.” 

Mr. Pleydell now dismissed Mrs. Rebecca. When she was 
gone, “I think I know the gypsy woman,” said the lawyer. 20 
“I was just going to say the same,” replied Mannering. 

“And her name ’’said Pleydell. 

“Is Meg Merrilies,” answered the Colonel. 

“Are you avised of that?” said the counsellor, looking at 
his military friend with a comic expression of surprise. 25 

Mannering answered, that he had known such a woman 
when he was at Ellangowan upwards of twenty years before ; 
and then made his learned friend acquainted with all the 
remarkable particulars of his first visit there. 

Mr. Pleydell listened with great attention, and then replied, 30 
“I congratulate myself upon having made the acquaintance 
of a profound theologian in your chaplain ; but I really did 
not expect to find a pupil of Albumazar or Messahala in his 


276 


GUY MANNERING 


patron. I have a notion, however, this gypsy could tell us 
some more of the matter than she derives from astrology or 
second-sight — I had her through hands once, and could then 
make little of her, but I must write to Mac-Morlan to stir 
5 heaven and earth to find her out. I will gladly come to 

shire myself to assist at her examination — I am still in 

the commission of the peace there, though I have ceased to 
be Sheriff — I never had anything more at heart in my life 
than tracing that murder, and the fate of the child. I must 
io write to the Sheriff of Roxburghshire too, and to an active 
justice of peace in Cumberland.” 

“I hope when you come to the country you will make 
Woodbourne your headquarters?” 

“Certainly; I was afraid you were going to forbid me — 
is but we must go to breakfast now, or I shall be too late.” 

On the following day the new friends parted, and the 
Colonel rejoined his family without any adventure worthy of 
being detailed in these chapters. 


CHAPTER XL 


Can no rest find me, no private place secure me, 

But still my miseries like bloodhounds haunt me ? 

Unfortunate young man, which way now guides thee, 

Guides thee from death? The country’s laid around for thee. 

Women Pleased . 0 

Our narrative now recalls us for a moment to the period 
when young Hazlewood received his wound. That accident 
had no sooner happened, than the consequences to Miss 
Mannering and to himself rushed upon Brown’s mind. From 
the manner in which the muzzle of the piece was pointed s 
when it went off, he had no great fear that the consequences 
would be fatal. But an arrest in a strange country, and while 
he was unprovided with any means of establishing his rank 
and character, was at least to be avoided. He therefore 
resolved to escape for the present to the neighboring coast io 
of England, and to remain concealed there, if possible, until 
he should receive letters from his regimental friends, and 
remittances from his agent; and then to resume his own 
character, and offer to young Hazlewood and his friends any 
explanation or satisfaction they might desire. With this pur- is 
pose he walked stoutly forward, after leaving the spot where 
the accident had happened, and reached without adventure 
the village which we have called Portanferry (but which the 
reader will in vain seek for under that name in the county 
map). A large open boat was just about to leave the quay, 20 
bound for the little seaport of Allonby, in Cumberland. In 

277 


278 


GUY MANNERING 


this vessel Brown embarked, and resolved to make tnat place 
his temporary abode, until he should receive letters and money 
from England. 

In the course of their short voyage he entered into some 
5 conversation with the steersman, who was also owner of the 
boat, a jolly old man, who had occasionally been engaged in 
the smuggling trade, like most fishers on the coast. After 
talking about objects of less interest, Brown endeavored to 
turn the discourse towards the Mannering family. The sailor 
io had heard of the attack upon the house at Woodbourne, but 
disapproved of the smugglers’ proceedings. 

“Hands off is fair play; zounds, they’ll bring the whole 
country down upon them — na, na ! when I was in that way I 
played at giff-gaff with the officers — here a cargo taen — vera 
15 weel, that was their luck; — -there another carried clean 
through, that was mine, — na, na ! hawks shouldna pike 
out hawks’ een.” 

“And this Colonel Mannering?” said Brown. 

“Troth, he’s nae wise man neither, to interfere — no that I 
20 blame him for saving the gaugers’ lives — that was very 
right ; but it wasna like a gentleman to be fighting about the 
poor folk’s pocks o’ tea and brandy kegs — however, he’s a 
grand man and an officer man, and they do what they like 
wi’ the like o’ us.” 

25 “And his daughter,” said Brown, with a throbbing heart, 
“is going to be married into a great family too, as I have 
heard ? ” 

“What, into the Hazlewoods’ ? ” said the pilot. “Na, na, 
that’s but idle clashes — every Sabbath day, as regularly as it 
30 came round, did the young man ride hame wi’ the daughter 
of the late Ellangowan — and my daughter Peggy’s in the 
service up at Woodbourne, and she says she’s sure young 
Hazlewood thinks nae mair of Miss Mannering than you do.” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


279 


Bitterly censuring his own precipitate adoption of a con- 
trary belief, Brown yet heard with delight that the suspicions 
of Julia’s fidelity, upon which he had so rashly acted, were 
probably void of foundation. How must he in the meantime 
be suffering in her opinion ? or what could she suppose of con- 5 
duct, which must have made him appear to her regardless 
alike of her peace of mind and of the interests of their 
affection? The old man’s connection with the family at 
Woodbourne seemed to offer a safe mode of communication, 
of which he determined to avail himself. io 

“Your daughter is a maid-servant at Woodbourne? — I 
knew Miss Mannering in India, and though I am at present 
in an inferior rank of life, I have great reason to hope she 
would interest herself in my favor. I had a quarrel un- 
fortunately with her father, who was my commanding officer, is 
and I am sure the young lady would endeavor to reconcile 
him to me. Perhaps your daughter could deliver a letter to 
her upon the subject, without making mischief between her 
father and her?” 

The old man, a friend to smuggling of every kind, readily 20 
answered for the letter’s being faithfully and secretly de- 
livered ; and, accordingly, as soon as they arrived at Allonby, 
Brown wrote to Miss Mannering, stating the utmost con- 
trition for what had happened through his rashness, and 
conjuring her to let him have an opportunity of pleading his 25 
own cause, and obtaining forgiveness for his indiscretion. 
He did not judge it safe to go into any detail concerning the 
circumstances by which he had been misled, and upon the 
whole endeavored to express himself with such ambiguity, 
that if the letter should fall into wrong hands, it would be 30 
difficult either to understand its real purport, or to trace the 
writer. This letter the old man undertook faithfully to 
deliver to his daughter at Woodbourne; and, as his trade 


280 


GUY M ANNE RING 


# would speedily again bring him or his boat to Allonby, he 
promised further to take charge of any answer with which 
the young lady might intrust him. 

And now our persecuted traveller landed at Allonby, and 
5 sought for such accommodations as might at once suit his 
temporary poverty, and his desire of remaining as much un- 
observed as possible. With this view he assumed the name 
and profession of his friend Dudley, having command enough 
of the pencil to verify his pretended character to his host of 
io Allonby. His baggage he pretended to expect from Wigton ; 
and keeping himself as much within doors as possible, awaited 
the return of the letters which he had sent to his agent, to 
Delaserre, and to his Lieutenant-Colonel. From the first 
he requested a supply of money; he conjured Delaserre, if 
is possible, to join him in Scotland; and from the Lieutenant- 
Colonel he required such testimony of his rank and conduct 
in the regiment as should place his character as a gentleman 
and officer beyond the power of question. The inconven- 
ience of being run short in his finances struck him so 
20 strongly, that he wrote to Dinmont on that subject, re- 
questing a small temporary loan, having no doubt that, being 
within sixty or seventy miles of his residence, he should re- 
ceive a speedy as well as favorable answer to his request 
of pecuniary accommodation, which was owing, as he stated, 
25 to his having been robbed after their parting. And then, 
with impatience enough, though without any serious ap- 
prehension, he waited the answers of these various letters. 

It must be observed, in excuse of his correspondents, that 
the post was then much more tardy than since Mr. Palmer’s 
30 ingenious invention has taken place; and with respect to 
honest Dinmont in particular, as he rarely received above one 
letter a quarter (unless during the time of his being engaged 
in a lawsuit, when he regularly sent to the post-town), his 


GUY M ANNE RING 


281 


correspondence usually remained for a month or two sticking 
in the postmaster’s window among pamphlets, gingerbread, 
rolls, or ballads, according to the trade which the said post- 
master exercised. Besides, there was then a custom, not yet 
wholly obsolete, of causing a letter, from one town to another, 5 
perhaps within the distance of thirty miles, to perform a cir- 
cuit of two hundred miles before delivery; which had the 
combined advantage of airing the epistle thoroughly, of adding 
some pence to the revenue of the post-office, and of exercising 
the patience of the correspondents. Owing to these circum- 10 
stances, Brown remained several days in Allonby without 
any answers whatever, and his stock of money began to wear 
very low, when he received, by the hands of a young fish- 
erman, the following letter : — 

“You have acted with the most cruel indiscretion; you 15 
have shown how little I can trust to your declarations that my 
peace and happiness are dear to you ; and your rashness has 
nearly occasioned the death of a young man of the highest 
worth and honor. Must I say more ? — must I add, that 1 
have been myself very ill in consequence of your violence 20 
and its effects ? And, alas ! need I say still further, that I 
have thought anxiously upon them as they are likely to affect 
you, although you have given me such slight cause to do so ? 
The C. is gone from home for several days ; Mr. H. is almost 
quite recovered ; and I have reason to think that the blame 25 
is laid in a quarter different from that where it is deserved. 
Yet do not think of venturing here. Our fate has been 
crossed by accidents of a nature too violent and terrible to 
permit me to think of renewing a correspondence which has 
so often threatened the most dreadful catastrophe. Fare- 30 
well, therefore, and believe that no one can wish your happi- 
ness more sincerely than J. M.” 


282 


GUY MANNERING 


This letter contained that species of advice, which is fre- 
quently given for the precise purpose that it may lead to 
a directly opposite conduct from that which it recommends. 
At least so thought Brown, who immediately asked the young 
5 fisherman if he came from Portanferry. 

“Ay,” said the lad ; “I am auld Willie Johnstone’s son, and 
I got that letter frae my sister Peggy, that’s laundry-maid at 
Woodbourne.” 

“My good friend, when do you sail?” 
io “With the tide this evening.” 

“I’ll return with you ; but as I do not desire to go to Por- 
tanferry, I wish you could put me on shore somewhere on the 
coast.” 

“We can easily do that,” said the lad. 

15 Although the price of provisions, etc., was then very 
moderate, the discharging his lodgings, and the expense of his 
living, together with that of a change of dress, which safety 
as well as a proper regard to his external appearance rendered 
necessary, brought Brown’s purse to a very low ebb. He left 
20 directions at the post-office that his letters should be for- 
warded to Kippletringan, whither he resolved to proceed, 
and reclaim the treasure which he had deposited in the hands 
of Mrs. Mac-Candlish. He also felt it would be his duty to 
assume his proper character as soon as he should receive the 
25 necessary evidence for supporting it, and, as an officer in the 
king’s service, give and receive every explanation which 
might be necessary with young Hazlewood. If he is not 
very wrongheaded indeed, he thought, he must allow the 
manner in which I acted to have been the necessary con- 
30 sequence of his own overbearing conduct. 

And now we must suppose him once more embarked on 
the Solway frith. The wind was adverse, attended by some 
rain, and they struggled against it without much assistance 


GUY M ANNE RING 


283 


from the tide. The boat was heavily laden with goods (part 
of which were probably contraband), and labored deep in 
the sea. Brown, who had been bred a sailor, and was indeed 
skilled in most athletic exercises, gave his powerful and effect- 
ual assistance in rowing, or occasionally in steering the boat, 5 
and his advice in the management, which became the more 
delicate as the wind increased, and, being opposed to the very 
rapid tides of that coast, made the voyage perilous. At 
length, after spending the whole night upon the frith, they 
were at morning within sight of a beautiful bay upon the 10 
Scottish coast. 

“And what,” said Brown to the boatman, “is the name of 
that fine cape, that stretches into the sea with its sloping 
banks and hillocks of woods, and forms the right side of the 
bay?” 15 

“Warroch Point,” answered the lad. 

“And that old castle, my friend, with the modern house 
situated just beneath it? It seems at this distance a very 
large building.” 

“That’s the Auld Place, sir; and that’s the New Place 20 
below it. We’ll land you there if you like.” 

“I should like it of all things. I must visit that ruin 
before I continue my journey.” 

The boat continued its course close under the point upon 
which the castle was situated, which frowned from the summit 25 
of its rocky site upon the still agitated waves of the bay 
beneath. “I believe,” said the steersman, “ye’ll get ashore 
here as dry as ony gate. There’s a place where’their berlins 
and galleys, as they ca’d them, used to lie in lang syne, but 
it’s no used now, because it’s ill carrying gudes up the narrow 30 
stairs, or ower the rocks. Whiles of a moonlight night I 
have landed articles there, though.” 

While he thus spoke, they pulled round a point of rock, 


284 


GUY M ANNE RING 


and found a very small harbor, partly formed by nature, 
partly by the indefatigable labor of the ancient inhabitants 
of the castle, who, as the fisherman observed, had found it 
essential for the protection of their boats and small craft, 
5 though it could not receive vessels of any burden. 

“Ye had better land here,” said the lad, “for the surf’s 
running high at the Shellicoat-stane, and there will no be a 
dry thread amang us or we get the cargo out. — Na ! na ! (in 
answer to an offer of money) ye have wrought for your pas- 
io sage, and wrought far better than ony o’ us. Gude day 
to ye: I wuss ye weel.” 

So saying, he pushed off in order to land his cargo on the 
opposite side of the bay ; and Brown, with a small bundle in 
his hand, containing the trifling stock of necessaries which 
15 he had been obliged to purchase at Allonby, was left on the 
rocks beneath the ruin. 

And thus, unconscious as the most absolute stranger, and 
in circumstances which, if not destitute, were for the present 
highly embarrassing; without the countenance of a friend 
20 within the circle of several hundred miles ; accused of a heavy 
crime, and, what was as bad as all the rest, being nearly 
penniless, did the harassed wanderer for the first time, after 
the interval of so many years, approach the remains of the 
castle, where his ancestors had exercised all but regal 
25 dominion. 


CHAPTER XLI 


Yes, ye moss-green walls,® 

Ye towers defenceless, I revisit ye 
Shame-stricken ! Where are all your trophies now ? 

Your thronged courts, the revelry, the tumult, 

That spoke the grandeur of my house, the homage 
Of neighboring Barons ? 

Mysterious Mother. 

Entering the castle of Ellangowan by a postern doorway, 
which showed symptoms of having been once secured with 
the most jealous care, Brown (whom, since he has set foot 
upon the property of his fathers, we shall hereafter call by his 
father’s name of Bertram) wandered from one ruined apart- 5 
ment to another, surprised at the massive strength of some 
parts of the building, the rude and impassive magnificence 
of others, and the great extent of the whole. 

After satisfying his curiosity by a hasty glance through the 
interior of the castle, Bertram now advanced through the 10 
great gateway which opened to the land, and paused to look 
upon the noble landscape which it commanded. Having 
in vain endeavored to guess the position of Woodbourne, 
and having nearly ascertained that of Kippletringan, he 
turned to take a parting look at the stately ruins which he 1 5 
had just traversed. He admired the massive and picturesque 
effect of the huge round towers, which, flanking the gateway, 
gave a double portion of depth and majesty to the high yet 
gloomy arch under which it opened. The carved stone 
escutcheon of the ancient family, bearing for their arms 20 

285 


286 


GUY MANNERING 


three wolves’ heads, was hung diagonally beneath the helmet 
and crest, the latter being a wolf couchant 0 pierced with an 
arrow. On either side stood as supporters, in full human 
size, or larger, a salvage man proper , 0 to use the language 
5 of heraldry, wreathed and cinctured, and holding in his hand 
an oak tree eradicated, that is, torn up by the roots. 

“And the powerful barons who owned this blazonry,” 
thought Bertram, pursuing the usual train of ideas which 
flows upon the mind at such scenes, — “do their posterity 
io continue to possess the lands which they had labored to fortify 
so strongly? or are they wanderers, ignorant perhaps even of 
the fame or power of their forefathers, while their hereditary 
possessions are held by a race of strangers ? Why is it,” he 
thought, continuing to follow out the succession of ideas 
i5 which the scene prompted, “why is it that some scenes 
awaken thoughts, which belong as it were to dreams of 
early and shadowy recollection, such as my old Brahmin 
Moonshie would have ascribed to a state of previous exist- 
ence? Is it the visions of our sleep that float confusedly 
20 in our memory, and are recalled by the appearance of such 
real objects as in any respect correspond to the phantoms 
they presented to our imagination? How often do we find 
ourselves in society which we have never before met, and 
yet feel impressed with a mysterious and ill-defined con- 
25 sciousness, that neither the scene, the speakers, nor the 
subject are entirely new; nay, feel as if we could anticipate 
that part of the conversation which has not yet taken place. 
It is even so with me while I gaze upon that ruin ; nor can 
I divest myself of the idea, that these massive towers, and 
30 that dark gateway, retiring through its deep-vaulted and 
ribbed arches, and dimly lighted by the courtyard beyond, 
are not entirely strange to me. Can it be that they have 
been familiar to me in infancy, and that I am to seek in 


GUY MANNERING 


287 


their vicinity those friends of whom my childhood has still 
a tender though faint remembrance, and whom I early ex- 
changed for such severe taskmasters? Yet Brown, who I 
think would not have deceived me, always told me I was 
brought off from the eastern coast, after a skirmish in which 5 
my father was killed ; and I do remember enough of a horrid 
scene of violence to strengthen his account.” 

It happened that the spot upon which young Bertram 
chanced to station himself for the better viewing the castle, 
was nearly the same on which his father had died. It was 10 
marked by a large old oak-tree, the only one on the esplanade, 
and which, having been used for executions by the barons 
of Ellangowan, was called the Justice-Tree. It chanced, 
and the coincidence was remarkable, that Glossin was this 
morning engaged with a person, whom he was in the habit 15 
of consulting in such matters, concerning some projected 
repairs, and a large addition to the house of Ellangowan, 
and that, having no great pleasure in remains so intimately 
connected with the grandeur of the former inhabitants, he 
had resolved to use the stones of the ruinous castle in his 20 
new edifice. Accordingly he came up the bank, followed 
by the land-surveyor mentioned on a former occasion, who 
was also in the habit of acting as a sort of architect in case of 
necessity. In drawing the plans, etc., Glossin was in the 
custom of relying upon his own skill. Bertram’s back was toward 25 
them as they came up the ascent, and he was quite shrouded 
by the branches of the large tree, so that Glossin was not 
aware of the presence of the stranger till he was close upon 
him. 

“Yes, sir, as I have often said before to you, the Old’ Place 30 
is a perfect quarry of hewn stone, and it would be better 
for the estate if it were all down, since it is only a den for 
smugglers.” At this instant Bertram turned short round 


288 


GUY M ANNE RING 


upon Glossin at the distance of two yards only, and said 
— “Would you destroy this fine old castle, sir?” 

His face, person, and voice, were so exactly those of his 
father in his best days, that Glossin, hearing his exclamation, 
S and seeing such a sudden apparition in the shape of his 
patron, and on nearly the very spot where he had expired, 
almost thought the grave had given up its dead ! — He stag- 
gered back two or three paces, as if he had received a sudden 
and deadly wound. He instantly recovered, however, his 
io presence of mind, stimulated by the thrilling reflection that 
it was no inhabitant of the other world which stood before 
him, but an injured man, whom the slightest want of dex- 
terity on his part might lead to acquaintance with his rights, 
and the means of asserting them to his utter destruction, 
is Yet his ideas were so much confused by the shock he had 
received, that his first question partook of the alarm. 

“In the name of God how came you here?” said Glossin. 

“How came I here?” repeated Bertram, surprised at the 
solemnity of the address. “I landed a quarter of an hour 
20 since in the little harbor beneath the castle, and was employ- 
ing a moment’s leisure in viewing these fine ruins. I trust 
there is no intrusion?” 

“Intrusion, sir? — no, sir,” said Glossin, in some degree 
recovering his breath, and then whispered a few words into 
25 his companion’s ear, who immediately left him, and de- 
scended towards the house. “Intrusion, sir? — no, sir, — 
you or any gentleman are welcome to satisfy your curiosity.” 

“I thank you, sir,” said Bertram. “They call this the Old 
Place, I am informed?” 

30 “ Y£s, sir ; in distinction to the New Place, my house there 

below.” 

“I wish to ask the name, sir,” said Bertram, “of the family 
to whom this stately ruin belongs?” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


289 


“It is my property, sir; my name is Glossin.” 

“Glossin — Glossin ?” repeated Bertram, as if the answer 
were somewhat different from what he expected; “I beg 
your pardon, Mr. Glossin ; I am apt to be very absent. — 
May I ask if the castle has been long in your family ?” 5 

“It was built, I believe, long ago, by a family called Mac- 
Dingawaie,” answered Glossin ; suppressing for obvious 
reasons the more familiar sound of Bertram, which might 
have awakened the recollections which he was anxious to lull 
to rest, and slurring with an evasive answer the question i° 
concerning the endurance of his own possession. 

“And how do you read the half-defaced motto, sir/’ said 
Bertram, “which is upon that scroll above the entablature 
with the arms?” 

“I — I — I really do not exactly know,” replied Glossin. 15 

“I should be apt to make it out, ‘ Our Right Makes our 
Might: ” 

“I believe it is something of that kind,” said Glossin. 

“May I ask, sir,” said the stranger, “if it is your family 
motto ? ” 20 

“N — n — no — no — not ours. That is, I believe, the 
motto of the former people — mine is — mine is — in fact I 
have had some correspondence with Mr. Cumming of the 
Lyon Office in Edinburgh about mine. He writes me the 
Glossins anciently bore for a motto, ‘He who takes it, makes 25 
it.’” 

“If there be any uncertainty, sir, and the case were mine,” 
said Bertram, “I would assume the old motto, which seems 
to me the better of the two.” 

Glossin, whose tongue by this time clove to the roof of 30 
his mouth, only answered by a nod. 

“It is odd enough,” said Bertram, fixing his eye upon the 
arms and gateway, and partly addressing Glossin, partly as it 
u 


290 


GUY M ANNE RING 


were thinking aloud — “it is odd the tricks which our memory 
plays us. The remnants of an old prophecy, or song, or 
rhyme, of some kind or other, return to my recollection on 
hearing that motto — stay — it is a strange jingle of sounds : 

’5 ‘The dark shall be light, 

And the wrong made right, 

When Bertram’s right and Bertram’s might 
Shall meet on ’ 

I cannot remember the last line — on some particular height 
io — height is the rhyme, I am sure ; but I cannot hit upon the 
preceding word.” 

“Confound your memory,” muttered Glossin, “you re- 
member by far too much of it !” 

“There are other rhymes connected with these early recol- 
15 lections,” continued the young man : “Pray, sir, is there any 
song current in this part of the world respecting a daughter 
of the King of the Isle of Man eloping with a Scottish 
knight?” 

“I am the worst person in the world to consult upon legen- 
20 dary antiquities,” answered Glossin. 

“I could sing such a ballad,” said Bertram, “from one 
end to another, when I was a boy. You must know I left 
Scotland, which is my native country, very young, and those 
who brought me up discouraged all my attempts to preserve 
25 recollection of my native land, on account, I believe, of a 
boyish wish which I had to escape from their charge. I 
preserved my language among the sailors, most of whom 
spoke English, and when I could get into a corner by my- 
self, I used to sing all that song over from beginning to end 
30 — I have forgot it all now — but I remember the tune well, 
though I cannot guess what should at present so strongly 
recall it to my memory.” 


GUY MANNERING 


291 


He took his flageolet from his pocket, and played a simple 
melody. Apparently the tune awoke the corresponding 
associations of a damsel, who, close beside a fine spring 
about half-way down the descent, and which had once sup- 
plied the castle with water, was engaged in bleaching linen. 5 
She immediately took up the song : 

“Are these the Links of Forth, she said, 

Or are they the crooks of Dee, 

Or the bonnie woods of Warroch Head 

That I so fain would see?” 10 

“By heaven,” said Bertram, “it is the very ballad! I 
must learn these words from the girl.” 

“Confusion !” thought Glossin; “if I cannot put a stop to 
this, all will be out. Oh, the devil take all ballads, and 
ballad-makers, and ballad-singers! and that d — d jade too, 15 
to set up her pipe” — “You will have time enough for this on 
some other occasion,” he said aloud ; “at present” — (for now 
he saw his emissary with two or three men coming up the 
bank), — “at present we must have some more serious 
conversation together.” 20 

“How do you mean, sir?” said Bertram, turning short 
upon him, and not liking the tone which he made use of. 

“Why, sir, as to that — I believe your name is Brown?” 
said Glossin. 

“And what of that, sir?” 25 

Glossin looked over his shoulder to see how near his party 
had approached; they were coming fast on. “Vanbeest 
Brown? if I mistake not.” 

“And what of that, sir?” said Bertram, with increasing 
astonishment and displeasure. 30 

“Why, in that case,” said Glossin, observing his friends 
had now got upon the level space close beside them — “in 


292 


GUY MANNERING 


that case you are my prisoner in the king’s name !” — At the 
same time he stretched his hand towards Bertram’s collar, 
while two of the men who had come up seized upon his arms ; 
he shook himself, however, free of their grasp by a violent 
5 effort, in which he pitched the most pertinacious down the 
bank, and, drawing his cutlass, stood on the defensive, while 
those who had felt his strength recoiled from his presence, 
and gazed at a safe distance. “Observe,” he called out at the 
same time, “that I have no purpose tQ resist legal authority ; 
io satisfy me that you have a magistrate’s warrant, and are 
authorized to make this arrest, and I will obey it quietly; 
but let no man who loves his life venture to approach me, till 
I am satisfied for what crime, and by whose authority, I am 
apprehended.” 

is Glossin then caused one of the officers show a warrant for 
the apprehension of Vanbeest Brown, accused of the crime 
of wilfully and maliciously shooting at Charles Hazlewood, 
younger of Hazlewood, with an intent to kill, and also of 
other crimes and misdemeanors, and which appointed him, 
20 having been so apprehended, to be brought before the next 
magistrate for examination. The warrant being formal, and 
the fact such as he could not deny, Bertram threw down his 
weapon, and submitted himself to the officers, who, flying on 
him with eagerness corresponding to their former pusillanim- 
25 ity, were about to load him with irons, alleging the strength 
and activity which he had displayed, as a justification of this 
severity. But Glossin was ashamed or afraid to permit this 
unnecessary insult, and directed the prisoner to be treated 
with all the decency, and even respect, that was consistent 
30 with safety. Afraid, however, to introduce him into his own 
house, where still further subjects of recollection might have 
been suggested, and anxious at the same time to cover his 
own proceedings by the sanction of another’s authority, he 


GUY MANNERING 


293 


ordered his carriage (for he had lately set lip a carriage) to be 
got ready, and in the meantime directed refreshments to be 
given to the prisoner and the officers, who were consigned 
to one of the rooms in the old castle, until the means of 
conveyance for examination before a magistrate should be 5 
provided. 


CHAPTER XLI 1 


Bring in the evidence ° 

Thou robed man of justice, take thy place, 

And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, 

Bench by his side — you are of the commission, 

Sit you too. 

King Lear. 

While the carriage was getting ready, Glossin had a letter 
to compose, about which he wasted no small time. It was to 
his neighbor, as he was fond of calling him, Sir Robert Hazle- 
wood of Hazlewood, the head of an ancient and powerful 
5 interest in the county, which had in the decadence of the 
Ellangowan family gradually succeeded to much of their 
authority and influence. The present representative of the 
family was an elderly man, dotingly fond of his own family, 
which was limited to an only son and daughter, and stoically 
io indifferent to the fate of all mankind besides. For the rest, 
he was honorable in his general dealings, because he was 
afraid to suffer the censure of the world, and just from a better 
motive. He was presumptuously over-conceited on the score 
of family pride and importance, a feeling considerably en- 
15 hanced by his late succession to the title of a Nova Scotia 
Baronet ; and he hated the memory of the Ellangowan family, 
though now a memory only, because a certain baron of that 
house was traditionally reported to have caused the founder 
of the Hazlewood family hold his stirrup until he mounted 
20 into his saddle. In his general deportment he was pompous 
and important, affecting a species of florid elocution, which 
294 


GUY MANNERING 


295 


often became ridiculous from his misarranging the triads and 
quaternions with which he loaded his sentences. 

To this personage Glossin was now to write in such a con- 
ciliatory style as might be most acceptable to his vanity and 
family pride, and the following was the form of his note. 5 

“Mr. Gilbert Glossin” (he longed to add of Ellangowan, 
but prudence prevailed, and he suppressed that territorial 
designation) — “Mr. Gilbert Glossin has the honor to offer 
his most respectful compliments to Sir Robert Hazlewood, 
and to inform him, that he has this morning been fortunate 10 
enough to secure the person who wounded Mr. C. Hazlewood. 

As Sir Robert Hazlewood may probably choose to conduct 
the examination of this criminal himself, Mr. G. Glossin will 
cause the man to be carried to the inn at Kippletringan, or to 
Hazlewood House, as Sir Robert Hazlewood may be pleased 15 
to direct : And, with Sir Robert Hazlewood’s permission, 
Mr. G. Glossin will attend him at either of these places with 
the proofs and declarations which he has been so fortunate as 
to collect respecting this atrocious business.” 

Addressed, 20 

“Sir Robert Hazlewood of Hazlewood, Bart. 

“Hazlewood House, etc., etc. 

“Ell n - G n - 1 
Tuesday.” J 

This note he despatched by a servant on horseback, and 25 
having given the man some time to get ahead, and desired 
him to ride fast, he ordered two officers of justice to get into 
the carriage with Bertram; and he himself, mounting his 
horse, accompanied them at a slow pace to the point where 
the roads to Kippletringan and Hazlewood House separated, 30 
and there awaited the return of his messenger, in order that 


296 


GUY M ANNE RING 


his farther route might be determined by the answer he should 
receive from the Baronet. In about half-an-hour his servant 
returned with the following answer, handsomely folded, and 
sealed with the Hazlewood arms, having the Nova Scotia 
5 badge depending from the shield. 

“Sir Robert Hazlewood of Hazlewood returns Mr. G. 
Glossin’s compliments, and thanks him for the trouble he has 
taken in a matter affecting the safety of Sir Robert’s family. 
Sir R. H. requests Mr. G. G. will have the goodness to bring 
io the prisoner to Hazlewood House for examination, with the 
other proofs or declarations which he mentions. And after the 
business is over, in case Mr. G. G. is not otherwise engaged, 
Sir R. and Lady Hazlewood request his company to dinner.” 

Addressed, 

is “Mr. Gilbert Glossin, etc. 

“Hazlewood House, 1 
Tuesday.” / 

“Soh !” thought Mr. Glossin, “here is one finger in at least, 
and that I will make the means of introducing my whole 
20 hand. But I must first get clear of this wretched young 
fellow. — I think I can manage Sir Robert. He is dull and 
pompous, and will be alike disposed to listen to my sugges- 
tions upon the law of the case, and to assume the credit 
of acting upon them as his own proper motion. So I shall 
2 5 have the advantage of being the real magistrate, without the 
odium of responsibility.” 

As he cherished these hopes and expectations, the carriage 
approached Hazlewood House, through a noble avenue of old 
oaks, which shrouded the ancient abbey-resembling building 
30 so called. It was a large edifice built at different periods, 
part having actually been a priory, upon the suppression of 


GUY MANN EKING 


297 


which, in the time of Queen Mary, the first of the family had 
obtained a gift of the house and the surrounding lands from 
the crown. 

While the officers of justice detained their prisoner in a sort 
of steward’s room, Mr. Glossin was ushered into what was 5 
called the great oak-parlor, a long room, panelled with well- 
varnished wainscot, and adorned with the grim portraits of 
Sir Robert Hazlewood’s ancestry. 

The Baronet received his visitor with that condescending 
parade which was meant at once to assert his own vast 10 
superiority, and to show the generosity and courtesy with 
which he could waive it, and descend to the level of ordinary 
conversation with ordinary men. He thanked Glossin for 
his attention to a matter in which “young Hazlewood” was 
so intimately concerned, and, pointing to his family pictures, 15 
observed, with a gracious smile, “indeed these venerable 
gentlemen, Mr. Glossin, are as much obliged as I am in 
this case, for the labor, pains, care, and trouble which you 
have taken in their behalf ; and I have no doubt, were they 
capable of expressing themselves, would join me, sir, in 20 
thanking you for the favor you have conferred upon the 
house of Hazlewood, by taking care, and trouble, sir, and 
interest, in behalf of the young gentleman who is to continue 
their name and family.” 

Thrice bowed Glossin, and each time more profoundly than 25 
before ; once in honor of the knight who stood upright before 
him, once in respect to the quiet personages who patiently 
hung upon the wainscot, and a third time in defer- 
ence to the young gentleman who was to carry on the name 
and family. Roturier 0 as he was, Sir Robert was gratified 30 
by the homage which he rendered, and proceeded in a tone 
of gracious familiarity : “And now, Mr. Glossin, my exceed- 
ing good friend, you must allow me to avail myself of your 


298 


GUY M ANNE RING 


knowledge of law in our proceedings in this matter. I am 
not much in the habit of acting as a justice of the peace; 
it suits better with other gentlemen, whose domestic and 
family affairs require less constant superintendence, attention, 
5 and management than mine.” 

Of course, whatever small assistance Mr. Glossin could 
render was entirely at Sir Robert Hazlewood’s service; but, 
as Sir Robert Hazlewood’s name stood high in the list of the 
faculty, the said Mr. Glossin could not presume to hope it 
io could be either necessary or useful. Mr. Glossin offered to 
officiate as clerk or assessor, or in any way in which he 
could be most useful. “And with a view to possessing you 
of the whole business, and in the first place, three will, I believe, 
be no difficulty in proving the main fact, that this was the 
15 person who fired the unhappy piece. Should he deny it, it 
can be proved by Mr. Hazlewood, I presume ? ” 

“Young Hazlewood is not at home to-day, Mr. Glossin.” 
“But we can have the oath of the servant who attended 
him,” said the ready Mr. Glossin; “indeed I hardly think 
20 the fact will be disputed. I am more apprehensive, that, 
from the too favorable and indulgent manner in which I have 
understood that Mr. Hazlewood has been pleased to represent 
the business, the assault may be considered as accidental, and 
the injury as unintentional, so that the fellow may be imme- 
25 diately set at liberty, to do more mischief.” 

“I have not the honor to know the gentleman who now 
holds the office of king’s advocate,” replied Sir Robert 
gravely; “but I presume, sir — nay, I am confident, that he 
will consider the mere fact of having wounded young Hazle- 
30 wood of Hazlewood, even by inadvertency, to take the matter 
in its mildest and gentlest, and in its most favorable and 
improbable light, as a crime which will be too easily atoned 
by imprisonment, and as more deserving of deportation.” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


299 


“Indeed, Sir Robert,” said his assenting brother in justice, 

“I am entirely of your opinion; but, I don’t know how it is, 

I have observed the Edinburgh gentlemen of the bar, and 
even the officers of the crown, pique themselves upon an 
indifferent administration of justice, without respect to rank 5 
and family ; and I should fear ” 

“How, sir, without respect to rank and family? Will you 
tell me that doctrine can be held by men of birth and legal 
education? No, sir; if a trifle stolen in the street is termed 
mere pickery, but is elevated into sacrilege if the crime be 10 
committed in a church, so, according to the just gradations of 
society, the guilt of an injury is enhanced by the rank of the 
person to whom it is offered, done, or perpetrated, sir.” 

Glossin bowed low to this declaration ex cathedra , 0 but 
observed, that in case of the very worst, and of such unnatural 1 5 
doctrines being actually held as he had already hinted, “the 
law had another hold on Mr. Vanbeest Brown.” 

“Vanbeest Brown ! is that the fellow’s name? Good God ! 
that young Hazlewood of Hazlewood should have had his life 
endangered, the clavicle of his right shoulder considerably 20 
lacerated and dislodged, several large drops or slugs deposited 
in the acromion process , 0 as the account of the family surgeon 
expressly bears, and all by an obscure wretch named Vanbeest 
Brown !” 

“Why, really, Sir Robert, it is a thing which one can 25 
hardly bear to think of ; but, begging ten thousand pardons 
for resuming what I was about to say, a person of the same 
name is, as appears from these papers (producing Dirk 
Hatteraick’s pocket-book), mate to the smuggling vessel who 
offered such violence at Woodbourne, and I have no doubt 30 
that this is the same individual ; which, however, your acute 
discrimination will easily be able to ascertain.” 

“The same, my good sir, he must assuredly be — it would 


300 


GUY M ANNE RING 


be injustice even to the meanest of the people, to suppose 
there could be found among them two persons doomed to 
bear a name so shocking to one’s ears as this of Vanbeest 
Brown.” 

5 “True, Sir Robert; most unquestionably; there cannot 
be a shadow of doubt of it. But you see further, that this 
circumstance accounts for the man’s desperate conduct . Y on, 
Sir Robert, will discover the motive for his crime — you, I 
say, will discover it without difficulty, on your giving your 
io mind to the examination ; for my part, I cannot help suspect- 
ing the moving spring to have been revenge for the gallantry 
with which Mr. Hazlewood, with all the spirit of his renowned 
forefathers, defended the house at Woodbourne against this 
villain and his lawless companions.” 
xs “I will inquire into it, my good sir,” said the learned 
Baronet. “Yet even now I" venture to conjecture that I 
shall adopt the solution or explanation of this riddle, enigma, 
or mystery, which you have in some degree thus started. 
Yes ! revenge it must be — and, good Heaven ! entertained 
20 by and against whom? — entertained, fostered, cherished, 
against young Hazlewood of Hazlewood, and in part carried 
into effect, executed, and implemented, by the hand of 
Vanbeest Brown! Let us have in this fellow, this Vanbeest 
Brown, and make an end of him at least for the present.” 


CHAPTER XLIII 


■ ’Twas he 

Gave heat unto the injury, 0 which returned, 

Like a petard ill lighted, into the bosom 
Of him that gave fire to’t. Yet I hope his hurt 
Is not so dangerous but he may recover. 

Fair Maid of the Inn. 

The prisoner was now presented before the two worship- 
ful magistrates. Glossin, partly from some compunctious 
visitings, and partly out of his cautious resolution to suffer 
Sir Robert Hazlewood to be the ostensible manager of the 
whole examination, looked down upon the table, and busied 5 
himself with reading and arranging the papers respecting the 
business, only now and then throwing in a skilful catchword 
as prompter, when he saw the principal, and apparently 
most active magistrate, stand in need of a hint. As for 
Sir Robert Hazlewood, he assumed on his part a happy 10 
mixture of the austerity of the justice, combined with the 
display of personal dignity appertaining to the baronet of 
ancient family. 

“ There, constables, let him stand there at the bottom of the 
table. — Be so good as look me in the face, sir, and raise your 15 
voice as you answer the questions which I am going to put to 
you.” 

“May I beg, in the first place, to know, sir, wdio it is that 
takes the trouble to interrogate me?” said the prisoner : “for 
the honest gentlemen who have brought me here have not 20 
been pleased to furnish any information upon that point.” 

301 


302 


GUY MANNERING 


“And pray, sir,” answered Sir Robert, “what has my name 
and quality to do with the questions I am about to ask you ?” 

“Nothing, perhaps, sir,” replied Bertram; “but it may 
considerably influence my disposition to answer them.” 

S “Why, then, sir, you will please to be informed that you 
are in presence of Sir Robert Hazlewood of Hazlewood, and 
another justice of peace for this county — that’s all.” 

As this intimation produced a less stunning effect upon 
the prisoner than he had anticipated, Sir Robert proceeded 
io in his investigation with an increasing dislike to the object 
of it. 

“Is your name Vanbeest Brown, sir?” 

“It is,” answered the prisoner. 

“So far well ; — and how are we to design you further, sir ? ” 
is demanded the Justice. 

“Captain in his Majesty’s regiment of horse,” an- 

swered Bertram. 

The Baronet’s ears received this intimation with astonish- 
ment; but he was refreshed in courage by an incredulous 
20 look from Glossin, and by hearing him gently utter a sort 
of interjectional whistle, in a note of surprise and contempt. 
“I believe, my friend,” said Sir Robert, “we shall find for 
you, before we part, a more humble title.” 

“If you do, sir,” replied his prisoner, “I shall willingly 
2 5 submit to any punishment which such an imposture shall be 
thought to deserve.” 

“Well, sir, we shall see,” continued Sir Robert. “Do you 
know young Hazlewood of Hazlewood?” 

“I never saw the gentleman who I am informed bears that 
30 name excepting once, and I regret that it was under very 
unpleasant circumstances.” 

“You mean to acknowledge, then,” said the Baronet, 
“that you inflicted upon young Hazlewood of Hazlewood 


GUY M ANNE RING 


303 


that wound which endangered his life, considerably lacerated 
the clavicle of his right shoulder, and deposited, as the family 
surgeon declares, several large drops or slugs in the acromion 
process?” 

“Why, sir,” replied Bertram, “I can only say I am equally 5 
ignorant of and sorry for the extent of-the damage which the 
young gentleman has sustained. I met him in a narrow path, 
walking with two ladies and a servant, and before I could 
either pass them or address them, this young Hazlewood took 
his gun from his servant, presented it against my body, and 10 
commanded me in the most haughty tone to stand back. I 
was neither inclined to submit to his authority, nor to leave 
him in possession of the means to injure me, which he seemed 
disposed to use with such rashness. I therefore closed with 
him for the purpose of disarming him; and just as I had 15 
nearly effected my purpose, the piece went off accidentally, 
and, to my regret then and since, inflicted upon the young 
gentleman a severer chastisement than I desired, though I 
am glad to understand it is like to prove no more than his 
unprovoked folly deserved.” 20 

“And so, sir,” said the Baronet, every feature swollen with 
offended dignity, — “You, sir, admit, sir, that it was your 
purpose, sir, and your intention, sir, and the real jet and 
object of your assault, sir, to disarm young Hazlewood oi 
Hazlewood of his gun, sir, or his fowling-piece, or his fuzee, 25 
or whatever you please to call it, sir, upon the king’s highway, 
sir ? — I think this will do, my worthy neighbor ! I think he 
should stand committed?” 

“You are by far the best judge, Sir Robert,” said Glossin, 
in his most insinuating tone ; “but if I might presume to hint, 30 
there was something about these smugglers.” 

“Very true, good sir. — And besides, sir, you, Vanbeest 
Brown, who call yourself a captain in his Majesty’s ser- 


304 


GUY M ANNE RING 


vice, are no better or worse than a rascally mate of a 
smuggler!” 

” Really, sir,” said Bertram, “you are an old gentleman, 
and acting under some strange delusion, otherwise I should 
5 be very angry with you.” 

“Old gentleman, sir! strange delusion, sir!” said Sir 
Robert, coloring with indignation. “I protest and declare 

Why, sir, have you any papers or letters that can establish 

your pretended rank, and estate, and commission?” 
io “None at present, sir,” answered Bertram; “but in the 
return of a post or two ” 

“And how do you, sir,” continued the Baronet, “if you are 
a captain in his Majesty’s service, how do you chance to be 
travelling in Scotland without letters of introduction, creden- 
15 tials, baggage, or anything belonging to your pretended rank, 
estate, and condition, as I said before?” 

“Sir,” replied the prisoner, “I had the misfortune to be 
robbed of my clothes and baggage.” 

“Oho ! then you are the gentleman who took a post-chaise 

20 from to Kippletringan, gave the boy the slip on the road, 

and sent two of your accomplices to beat the boy and bring 
away the baggage?” 

“I was, sir, in a carriage as you describe, was obliged to 
alight in the snow, and lost my way endeavoring to find the 
25 road to Kippletringan. The landlady of the inn will inform 
you that on my arrival there the next day, my first inquiries 
were after the boy.” 

“Then give me leave to ask where you spent the night — 
not in the snow, I presume? you do not suppose that will 
30 pass, or be taken, credited, and received?” 

“I beg leave,” said Bertram, his recollection turning to the 
gypsy female, and to the promise he had given her, “I beg 
leave to decline answering that question.” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


305 


“I thought as much,” said Sir Robert. — “Were you not 
during that night in the ruins of Derncleugh ? — in the ruins 
of Derncleugh, sir?” 

“I have told you that I do not intend answering that 
question,” replied Bertram. 5 

“Well, sir, then you will stand committed, sir,” said Sir 
Robert, “and be sent to prison, sir, that’s all, sir. — Have the 
goodness to look at these papers ; are you the Vanbeest Brown 
who is there mentioned?” 

It must be remarked that Glossin had shuffled among the io 
papers some writings which really did belong to Bertram, and 
which had been found by the officers in ^lie old vault where 
his portmanteau was ransacked. 

“Some of these papers,” said Bertram, looking over them, 
“are mine, and were in my portfolio when it was stolen from is 
the post-chaise. They are memoranda of little value, and, 

I see, have been carefully selected as affording no evidence 
of my rank or character, which many of the other papers 
would have established fully. They are mingled with ship- 
accounts and other papers, belonging apparently to a person 20 
of the same name.” 

“And wilt thou attempt to persuade me, friend,” demanded 
Sir Robert, “that there are two persons in this country, at the 
same time, of thy very uncommon and awkwardly sounding 
name?” 25 

“I really do not see, sir, as there is an old Hazlewood and 
a young Hazlewood, why there should not be an old and 
a young Vanbeest Brown. And, to speak seriously, I was 
educated in Holland, and I know that, this name, however 
uncouth it may sound in British ears ” 30 

Glossin, conscious that the prisoner was now about to enter 
upon dangerous ground, interfered, though the interruption 
was unnecessary, for the purpose of diverting the attention 


x 


306 


GUY M ANNE RING 


of Sir Robert Hazlewood, who was speechless and motionless 
with indignation at the presumptuous comparison implied in 
Bertram’s last speech. “I should think now, Sir Robert, 
with great submission, that this matter may be closed. One 
5 of the constables, besides the pregnant proof already pro- 
duced, offers to make oath, that the sword of which the 
prisoner was this morning deprived (while using it, by the 
way, in resistance to a legal warrant) was a cutlass taken 
from him in a fray between the officers and smugglers, just 
i o previous to their attack upon Woodbourne. And yet,” 
he added, “I would not have you form any rash construction 
upon that subject; perhaps the young man can explain how 
he came by that weapon.” 

“That question, sir,” said Bertram, “I shall also leave 
15 unanswered.” 

“There is yet another circumstance to be inquired into, 
always under Sir Robert’s leave,” insinuated Glossin. “This 
prisoner put into the hands of Mrs. Mac-Candlish of Kipple- 
tringan a parcel containing a variety of gold coins and valuable 
20 articles of different kinds. Perhaps, Sir Robert, you might 
think it right to ask, how he came by property of a description 
which seldom occurs?” 

“You, sir, Mr. Vanbeest Brown, sir, you hear the question, 
sir, which the gentleman asks you?” 

25 “I have particular reasons for declining to answer that 
question,” answered Bertram. 

“Then I am afraid, sir,” said Glossin, who had brought 
matters to the point he desired to reach, “our duty must lay 
us under the necessity to sign a warrant of committal.” 

30 “As you please, sir,” answered Bertram; “take care, how- 
ever, what you do. Observe that I inform you that I am a 

captain in his Majesty’s regiment, and that I am just 

returned from India, and therefore cannot possibly be con- 


GUY M ANNE RING 


307 


nected with any of those contraband traders you talk of ; that 
my Lieutenant-Colonel is now at Nottingham, the Major, with 
the officers of my corps, at Kingston-upon-Thames. I offer 
before you both to submit to any degree of ignominy, if, 
within the return of the Kingston and Nottingham posts, I am 5 
not able to establish these points. Or you may write to the 
agent for the regiment, if you please, and ” 

“This is all very well, sir,” said 'Glossin, beginning to fear 
lest the firm expostulation of Bertram should make some 
impression on Sir Robert, who would almost have died of io 
shame at committing such a solecism 0 as sending a captain 
of horse to jail — “This is all very well, sir; but is there no 
person nearer whom you could refer to?” 

“There are only two persons in this country who know any- 
thing of me,” replied the prisoner. “One is a plain Liddes- is 
dale sheep-farmer, called Dinmont of Charlies-hope ; but he 
knows nothing more of me than what I told him, and what I 
now tell you.” 

“Why, this is well enough, Sir Robert!” said Glossin, “I 
suppose he would bring forward this thick-skulled fellow to 20 
give his oath of credulity, Sir Robert, ha, ha, ha!” 

“And what is your other witness, friend?” said the 
Baronet. 

“A gentleman whom I have some reluctance to mention, 
because of certain private reasons ; but under whose command 25 
I served some time in India, and who is too much a man of 
honor to refuse his testimony to my character as a soldier 
and gentleman.” 

“And who is this doughty witness, pray, sir?” said Sir 
Robert, — “some half-pay quarter-master or sergeant, 1 30 
suppose ? ” 

“Colonel Guy Mannering, late of the — regiment, in which, 
as I told you, I have a troop.” 


308 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“Colonel Guy Mannering!” thought Glossin, — “who the 
devil could have guessed this ? ” 

“Colonel Guy Mannering !” echoed the Baronet, con- 
siderably shaken in his opinion, — “My good sir,” — apart to 
5 Glossin, “the young man with a dreadfully plebeian name, 
and a good deal of modest assurance, has nevertheless some- 
thing of the tone, and manners, and feeling of a gentleman, 
of one at least who has lived in good society — they do give 
commissions very loosely, and carelessly, and inaccurately, in 
io India — I think we had better pause till Colonel Mannering 
shall return ; he is now, I believe, at Edinburgh.” 

“You are in every respect the best judge, Sir Robert,” 
answered Glossin, “in every possible respect. I would only 
submit to you, that we are hardly entitled to dismiss 
15 this man upon an assertion which cannot be satisfied by proof, 
and that we shall incur a heavy responsibility by detaining 
him in private custody, without committing him to a public 
jail. Undoubtedly, however, you are the best judge, Sir 
Robert ; — and I would only say, for my own part, that I very 
20 lately incurred severe censure by detaining a person in a place 
which I thought perfectly secure, and under the custody of 
the proper officers. The man made his escape, and I have 
no doubt my own character for attention and circumspection 
as a magistrate has in some degree suffered — I only hint 
2 5 this — I will join in any step you, Sir Robert, think most 
advisable.” But Mr. Glossin was well aware that such a 
hint was of power sufficient to decide the motions of his self- 
important, but not self-relying colleague. So that Sir Robert 
Hazlewood summed up the business in the following speech, 
30 which proceeded partly upon the supposition of the prisoner 
being really a gentleman, and' partly upon the opposite 
belief that he was a villain and an assassin. 

“Sir, Mr. Vanbeest Brown — I would call you Captain 


GUY MANNERING 


309 


Brown if there was the least reason, or cause, or grounds to 
suppose that you are a captain, or had a troop in the very 
respectable corps you mention, or indeed in any other corps 
in his Majesty’s service, as to which circumstance I beg to be 
understood to give no positive, settled, or unalterable judg- 5 
ment, declaration, or opinion. I say therefore, sir, Mr. 
Brown, we have determined, considering the unpleasant 
predicament in which you now stand, having been robbed, 
as you say, an assertion as to which I suspend my opinion, 
and being possessed of much and valuable treasure, and of a io 
brass-handled cutlass besides, as to your obtaining which you 
will favor us with no explanation — I say, sir, we have 
determined and resolved, and made up our minds, to commit 
you to jail, or rather to assign you an apartment therein, 
in order that you may be forthcoming upon Colonel Man- 15 
nering’s return from Edinburgh.” 

“With humble submission, Sir Robert,” said Glossin, “may 
I inquire if it is your purpose to send this young gentleman to 
the county jail? — for if that were not your settled intention, 

I would take the liberty to hint, that there would be less 20 
hardship in sending him to the Bridewell at Portanferry 
where he can be secured without public exposure; a cir- 
cumstance which, on the mere chance of his story being 
really true, is much to be avoided.” 

“Why, there is a guard of soldiers at Portanferry, to be 25 
sure, for protection of the goods in the Custom-house; and 
upon the whole, considering everything, and that the place is 
comfortable for such a place, I say all things considered, we 
will commit this person, I would rather say authorize him to 
be detained, in the workhouse at Portanferry.” 30 

The warrant was made out accordingly, and Bertram was 
informed he was next morning to be removed to his place of 
confinement, as Sir Robert had determined he should not be 


310 


GUY MANNER1NG 


taken there under cloud of night, for fear of rescue. He was, 
during the interval, to be detained at Hazlewood House. 

“And now,” said Glossin to himself, “to find Dirk 
Hatteraick and his people, — to get the guard sent off from 
5 the Custom-house, — and then for the grand cast of the dice. 
Everything must depend upon speed. How lucky that 
Mannering has betaken himself to Edinburgh ! His knowl- 
edge of this young fellow is a most perilous addition to my 
dangers.” 


CHAPTER XLIV 


A prison is a house of care, 

A place where none can thrive, 

A touchstone true to try a friend, 

A grave for one alive. 

Sometimes a place of right, 

Sometimes a place of wrong, 

Sometimes a place of rogues and thieves, 

And honest men among. 

Inscription in Edinburgh Tolbooth. 0 

Early on the following morning, the carriage which had 
brought Bertram to Hazlewood House, was, with his two silent 
and surly attendants, appointed to convey him to his place of 
confinement at Portanferry. This building adjoined to the 
Custom-house established at that little seaport, and both were 5 
situated so close to the sea-beach that it was necessary to 
defend the back part with a large and strong rampart or 
bulwark of huge stones, disposed in a slope towards the surf, 
which often reached and broke upon them. The front was 
surrounded by a high wall, inclosing a small courtyard, 10 
within which the miserable inmates of the mansion were 
occasionally permitted to take exercise and air. The prison 
was used as a House of Correction, and sometimes as a chapel 
of ease to the county jail, which was old, and far from being 
conveniently situated with reference to the Kippletringan is 
district of the county. Mac-Guffog, the officer by whom 
Bertram had at first been apprehended, and who was now 
in attendance upon him, was keeper of this palace of little- 
ease. He caused the carriage to be drawn close up to the 

311 


312 


GUY MANNERING 


outer gate, and got out himself to summon the warders. 
The door of the courtyard, after the heavy clanking of many 
chains and bars, was opened by Mrs. Mac-Guffog, an awful 
spectacle, being a woman for strength and resolution capable 
5 of maintaining order among her riotous inmates, and of 
administering the discipline of the house, as it was called, 
during the absence of her husband, or when he chanced to 
have taken an overdose of the creature. The growling voice 
of this Amazon addressed her amiable helpmate : — 
io “Be sharp, man, and get out the swell, canst thou not?” 

“Hold your tongue,” answered her loving husband, with 
two epithets of great energy, which we beg to be excused 
from repeating. Then, addressing Bertram, — 

“Come, will you get out, my handy lad, or must we lend 
is you a lift?” 

Bertram came out of the carriage, and, collared by the 
constable as he put his foot on the ground, was dragged, 
though he offered no resistance, across the threshold. The 
instant his foot had crossed the fatal porch, the portress 
20 again dropped her chains, drew her bolts, and turning with 
both hands an immense key, took it from the lock, and thrust 
it into a huge side-pocket of red cloth. 

Bertram was now in the small court already mentioned. 
Two or three prisoners were sauntering along the pavement, 
25 and deriving as it were a feeling of refreshment from the 
momentary glimpse with which the opening door had ex- 
tended their prospect to the other side of a dirty street. Mac- 
Guffog, when they entered the courtyard, suffered Bertram 
to pause for a minute, and look upon his companions in 
30 affliction. When he had cast his eye around, on faces on 
which guilt, and despondence, and low excess, had fixed their 
stigma ; upon the spendthrift, and the swindler, and the thief, 
the bankrupt debtor, the “moping idiot, and the madman 


GUY MANN BRING 


313 


gay,” whom a paltry spirit of economy congregated to share 
this dismal habitation, he felt his heart recoil with inexpres- 
sible loathing from enduring the contamination of their 
society even for a moment. 

“I hope, sir,” he said to the keeper, “you intend to assign 5 
me a place of confinement apart ? ” 

“And what should I be the better of that?” 

“Why, sir, I can but be detained here a day or two, and 
it would be very disagreeable to me to mix in the sort of 
company this place affords.” 10 

“And what do I care for that?” 

“Why, then, sir, to speak to your feelings,” said Bertram, 

“I shall be willing to make you a handsome compliment for 
this indulgence.” 

“Ay, but when, Captain? when and how? that’s the ques- 15 
tion, or rather the twa questions,” said the jailor. 

“When I am delivered, and get my remittances from 
England,” answered the prisoner. 

Mac-Guffog shook his head incredulously. 

‘Why, friend, you do not pretend to believe that I am really 20 
a malefactor?” said Bertram. 

“Why, I no ken,” said the fellow; “but if you are on the 
account, ye’re nae sharp ane, that’s the daylight o’t.” 

“And why do you say I am no sharp one ?” 

“Why, wha but a crack-brained greenhorn wad hae let 25 
them keep up the siller that ye left at the Gordon Arms?” 
said the constable. “Deil fetch me, but I wad have had it 
out o’ their wames ! Ye had nae right to be strippit o’ your 
money and sent to jail without a mark to pay your fees ; they 
might have keepit the rest o’ the articles for evidence. But 30 
why, for a blind bottle-head, did not ye ask the guineas? 
and I kept winking and nodding a’ the time, and the donnert 
deevil wad never ance look my way !” 


314 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“Well, sir,” replied Bertram, “if I have a title to have that 
property delivered up to me, I shall apply for it ; and there is 
a good deal more than enough to pay any demand you can 
set up.” 

5 “I dinna ken a bit about that,” said Mac-Guff og; “ye may 
be here lang eneugh. And then the gieing credit maun be 
considered in the fees. But, however, as ye do seem to be 
a chap by common, though my wife says I lose by my good- 
nature, if ye gie me an order for my fees upon that money — I 
io dare say Glossin will make it forthcoming — I ken something 
about an escape from Ellangowan — ay, ay, he’ll be glad to 
carry me through, and be neighbor-like.” 

“Well, sir,” replied Bertram, “if I am not furnished in a 
day or two otherwise, you shall have such an order.” 

15 “Weel, weel, then ye shall be put up like a prince,” said 
Mac-Guff og. “But mark ye me, friend, that we may have 
nae colly-shangie afterhend, these are the fees I always charge 
a swell that must have his lib-ken to himsell — Thirty shil- 
lings a week for lodgings, and a guinea for garnish; half-a- 
20 guinea a week for a single bed, — and I dinna get the whole 
of it, for I must gie half-a-crown out of it to Donald Laider 
that’s in for sheep-stealing, that should sleep with you by 
rule, and he’ll expect clean strae, and maybe some whisky 
beside. So I make little upon that.” 

~'5 “Well, sir, go on.” 

“Then for meat and liquor, ye may have the best, and I 
never charge abune twenty per cent ower tavern price for 
pleasing a gentleman that way — and that’s little eneugh for 
sending in and sending out, and wearing the lassie’s shoon out. 
30 And then if ye’re dowie, I will sit wi’ you a gliff in the evening 
my sell, man, and help ye out wi’ your bottle. — I have drank 
inony a glass wi’ Glossin, man, that did you up, though he’s 
a justice now. And then I’se warrant ye’ll be for fire thir 


GUY M ANNE RING 


315 


cauld nights, or if ye want candle, that’s an expensive article, 
for it’s against the rules. And now I’ve tell’d ye the head 
articles of the charge, and I dinna think there’s muckle mair, 
though there will aye be some odd expenses ower and abune.” 

“Well, sir, I must trust to your conscience, if ever you s 
happened to hear of such a thing — I cannot help myself.” 

“Na, na, sir,” answered the cautious jailor, “I’ll no permit 
you to be saying that — I’m forcing naething upon ye ; — an 
ye dinna like the price ye needna take the article — I force 
no man ; I was only explaining what civility was ; but if ye io 
like to take the common run of the house, it’s a’ ane to me — 
I’ll be saved trouble, that’s a’.” 

“Nay, my friend, I have, as I suppose you may easily guess, 
no inclination to dispute your terms upon such a penalty,” 
answered Bertram. “Come, show me where I am to be, for I is 
would fain be alone for a little while.” 

“Ay, ay, come along then, Captain,” said the fellow, with a 
contortion of visage which he intended to be a smile; “and 
I’ll tell you now, — to show you that I have a conscience, as ye 
ca’t, I’ll na charge ye abune sixpence a day for the freedom 20 
o’ the court, and ye may walk in’t very near three hours 
a day, and play at pitch-and-toss, and handba’, and what 
not.” 

With this gracious promise, he ushered Bertram into the 
house, and showed him up a steep and narrow stone staircase, 25 
at the top of which was a strong door, clenched with iron and 
studded with nails. Beyond this door was a narrow passage 
or gallery, having three cells on each side, wretched vaults, 
with iron bed-frames and straw mattresses. But at the 
farther end was a small apartment, of rather a more decent 30 
appearance, that is, having less the air of a place of confine- 
ment, since, unless for the large lock and chain upon the door, 
and the crossed and ponderous stanchions upon the window, 


316 


GUY M ANNE RING 


it rather resembled the “ worst inn’s worst room.” It was 
designed as a sort of infirmary for prisoners whose state of 
health required some indulgence ; and, in fact, Donald Laider, 
Bertram’s destined chum, had been just dragged out of one 
5 of the two beds which it contained, to try whether clean straw 
and whisky might not have a better chance to cure his inter- 
mitting fever. This process of ejection had been carried into 
force by Mrs. Mac-Guffog while her husband parleyed with 
Bertram in the courtyard, that good lady having a distinct 
io presentiment of the manner in which the treaty must neces- 
sarily terminate. Apparently the expulsion had not taken 
place without some application of the strong hand, for one 
of the bed-posts of a sort of tent-bed was broken down, so 
that the tester and curtains hung forward into the middle of 
15 the narrow chamber, like the banner of a chieftain, half- 
sinking amid the confusion of a combat. 

“Never mind that being out o’ sorts. Captain,” said Mrs. 
Mac-Guffog, who now followed them into the room. “And 
there’s your bed, Captain,” pointing to a massy four-posted 
20 hulk, which, owing to the inequality of the floor that had sunk 
considerably (the house, though new, having been built by 
contract), stood on three legs, and held the fourth aloft as if 
pawing the air, and in the attitude of advancing like an 
elephant passant 0 upon the panel of a coach — “There’s 
25 your bed and the blankets ; but if ye want sheets, or bowster, 
or pillow, or ony sort o’ nappery for the table, or for your 
hands, ye’ll hae to speak to me about it, for that’s out o’ the 
gudeman’s line (Mac-Guffog had by this time left the room, 
to avoid, probably, any appeal which might be made to him 
30 upon this new exaction), and he never engages for ony thing 
like that.” 

“In God’s name,” said Bertram, “let me have what is 
decent, and make any charge you please.” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


317 


“Aweel, aweel, that’s sune settled; we’ll no excise you 
neither, though we live sae near the Custom-house. And 
I maun see to get you some fire and some dinner too, I’se 
warrant ; but your dinner will be but a puir ane the day, no 
expecting company that would be nice and fashious.” — So 5 
saying, and in all haste, Mrs. Mac-Guffog fetched a scuttle 
of live coals, and having replenished “the rusty grate, un- 
conscious of a fire” for months before, she proceeded with 
unwashed hands to arrange the stipulated bed-linen (alas, 
how different from Ailie Dinmont’s !), and, muttering to her- 10 
self as she discharged her task, seemed, in inveterate spleen of 
temper, to grudge even those accommodations for which she 
was to receive payment. 

When she was gone, Bertram found himself reduced to the 
alternative of pacing his little apartment for exercise, or gazing 15 
out upon the sea in such proportions as could be seen from 
the narrow panes of his window, obscured by dirt and by close 
iron-bars, or reading over the records of brutal wit and 
blackguardism which despair had scrawled upon the half- 
whitened walls. 20 

At length the tedium of this weary space was broken by 
the entrance of a dirty-looking serving wench, who made 
some preparations for dinner by laying a half-dirty cloth upon 
a whole-dirty deal table. A knife and fork, which had not 
been worn out by over-cleaning, flanked a cracked delf plate ; 25 
a nearly empty mustard-pot, placed on one side of the table, 
balanced a salt-cellar, containing an article of a grayish, or 
rather a blackish mixture, upon the other, both of stone-ware, 
and bearing too obvious marks of recent service. Shortly 
after, the same Hebe brought up a plate of beef-collops,° done 30 
in the frying-pan, with a huge allowance of grease floating in 
an ocean of lukewarm water ; and having added a coarse loaf 
to these savory viands, she requested to know what liquors 


318 


GUY MANNERING 


the gentleman chose to order. The appearance of this fare 
was not very inviting; but Bertram endeavored to mend his 
commons by ordering wine, which he found tolerably good, 
and, with the assistance of some indifferent cheese, made his 
5 dinner chiefly off the brown loaf. When his meal was over, 
the girl presented her master’s compliments, and, if agreeable 
to the gentleman, he would help him to spend the evening. 
Bertram desired to be excused, and begged, instead of this 
gracious society, that he might be furnished with paper, pen, 
io ink, and candles. The light appeared in the shape of one 
long broken tallow-candle, inclining over a tin candlestick 
coated with grease ; as for the writing materials, the prisoner 
was informed that he might have them the next day if he 
chose to send out to buy them. Bertram next desired the 
is maid to procure him a book, and enforced his request with a 
shilling; in consequence of which, after long absence, she 
reappeared with two odd volumes of the Newgate Calendar , 0 
which she had borrowed from Sam Silverquill, an idle appren- 
tice, who was imprisoned under a charge of forgery. Having 
20 laid the books on the table she retired, and left Bertram to 
studies which were not ill adapted to his present melancholy 
situation. 


CHAPTER XLV 


But if thou shouldst be dragg’d in scorn 0 
To yonder ignominious tree, 

Thou shalt not want one faithful friend 
To share the cruel fates’ decree. 

Shenstone. 

He was interrupted by a loud knocking at the outer gate, 
answered by the barking of the gaunt half-starved mastiff, 
which was quartered in the courtyard as an addition to 
the garrison. After much scrupulous precaution the gate 
was opened, and some person admitted. The house-door 5 
was next unbarred, unlocked, and unchained, a dog’s feet 
pattered upstairs in great haste, and the animal was heard 
scratching and whining at the door of the room. Next a 
heavy step was heard lumbering up, and Mac-Guffog’s voice 
in the character of pilot — “This way, this way; take care 10 
of the step ; — that’s the room.” — Bertram’s door was then 
unbolted, and, to his great surprise and joy, his terrier, Wasp, 
rushed into the apartment, and almost devoured him with 
caresses, followed by the massy form of his friend from 
Charlies-hope. 15 

“Eh whow ! Eh whow !” ejaculated the honest farmer, as 
he looked round upon his friend’s miserable apartment and 
wretched accommodation — “What’s this o’t! what’s this 
o’t !” 

“Just a trick of fortune, my good friend,” said Bertram, 2 o 
rising and shaking him heartily by the hand, “that’s all.” 

“But what will be done about it? — or what can be done 

319 


320 


GUY M ANNE RING 


about it ? ” said the honest Dandie — “ is’t for debt, or what 
is’t for ? ” 

“Why, it is not for debt,” answered Bertram; “and if 
you have time to sit down, I’ll tell you all I know of the 
5 matter myself.” 

“If I hae time?” said Dandie, with an accent on the word 
that sounded like a howl of derision — “Ou, what the deevil 
am I come here for, man, but just ance errand to see about 
it? But ye’ll no be the waur o’ something to eat, I trow; — 
io it’s getting late at e’en — I tell’d the folk at the Change, 
where I put up Dumple, to send ower my supper here, and 
the chield Mac-Guffog is agreeable to let it in — I hae settled 
a’ that. — And now let’s hear your story — Whisht, Wasp, 
man ! wow but he’s glad to see you, poor thing l” 

15 Bertram’s story, being confined to the accident of Hazle- 
wood, and the confusion made between his own identity and 
that of one of the smugglers, who had been active in the 
assault of Woodbourne, and chanced to bear the same name, 
was soon told. Dinmont listened very attentively. “Aweel,” 
20 he said, “this suld be nae sic dooms-desperate business surely 
— the lad’s doing weel again that was hurt, and what signifies 
twa or three lead draps in his shouther ? if ye had putten out 
his ee it would hae been another case.” 

“But now tell me, my excellent friend, how did you find 
25 out I was here?” 

“Odd, lad, queerly eneugh,” said Dandie; “but I’ll tell ye 
that after we are done wi’ our supper, for it will maybe no be 
sae weel to speak about it while that lang-lugged° limmer o’ a 
lass is gaun flisking in and out o’ the room.” 

30 Bertram’s curiosity was in some degree put to rest by the 
appearance of the supper which his friend had ordered, which, 
although homely enough, had the appetizing cleanliness in 
which Mrs. Mac-Guffog’s cookery was so eminently deficient. 


GUY MANN BRING 


321 


Dinmont also, premising he had ridden the whole day since 
breakfast-time, without tasting anything “to speak of,” which 
qualifying phrase related to about three pounds of cold roast 
mutton which he had discussed at his mid-day stage, — Din- 
mont, I say, fell stoutly upon the good cheer, and, like one 5 
of Homer’s heroes, said little, either good or bad, till the rage 
of thirst and hunger was appeased. At length, after a draught 
of home-brewed ale, he began by observing, “Aweel, aweel, 
that hen,” looking upon the lamentable relics of what had 
been once a large fowl, “wasna a bad ane to be bred at a 10 
town end, though it’s no like our barn-door chuckies at 
Charlies-hope — and I am glad to see that this vexing job 
hasna taen awa your appetite, Captain.” 

“Why, really, my dinner was not so excellent, Mr. Dinmont, 
as to spoil my supper.” 15 

“I dare say no, I dare say no,” said Dandie : — “But now, 
hinny, that ye hae brought us the brandy, and the mug wi’ 
the het water, and the sugar, and a’ right, ye may steek the 
door, ye see, for we wad hae some o’ our ain cracks.” The 
damsel accordingly retired, and shut the door of the apart- 20 
ment, to which she added the precaution of drawing a large 
bolt on the outside. 

As soon as she was gone, Dandie reconnoitred the premises, 
listened at the keyhole as if he had been listening for the 
blowing of an otter, and having satisfied himself that there 25 
were no eavesdroppers, returned to the table; and making 
himself what he called a gey stiff cheerer, poked the fire, and 
began his story in an undertone of gravity and importance 
not very usual with him. 

“Ye see, Captain, I had been in Edinbro’ for twa or three 30 
days, looking after the burial of a friend that we hae lost, and 
maybe I suld hae had something for my ride; but there’s 
disappointments in a’ things, and wha can help the like o’ 

Y 


322 


GUY MANNER1NG 


that? And I had a wee bit law business besides, but that’s 
neither here nor there. In short, I had got my matters 
settled, and hame I cam; and the morn awa to the muirs 
to see what the herds had been about, and I thought I might 
5 as weel gie a look to the Tout-hope head, where Jock o’ 
Dawston and me has the outcast about a march. — Weel, just 
as I was coming upon the bit, I saw a man afore me that I 
kenn’d was nane o’ our herds, and it’s a wild bit to meet ony 
other body, so when I cam up to him, it was Tod Gabriel the 
io fox-hunter. So I says to him, rather surprised like, ‘What 
are ye doing up amang the craws here, without your hounds, 
man ? are ye seeking the fox without the dogs ? ’ So he said, 
‘Na, gudeman, but I wanted to see yoursell.’ 

“‘Ay,’ said I, ‘and ye’ll be wanting eilding now, or some- 
iS thing to pit ower the winter?’ 

“‘Na, na,’ quo’ he, ‘it’s no that I’m seeking; but ye tak 
an unco concern in that Captain Brown that was staying wi’ 
you, d’ye no ? ’ 

“ ‘Troth do I, Gabriel,’ says I ; ‘and what about him, lad ?’ 
20 “Says he, ‘There’s mair tak an interest in him than you, 
and some that I am bound to obey ; and it’s no just on my 
ain will that I’m here to tell you something about him that 
will no please you.’ 

“ ‘Faith, naething will please me,’ quo’ I, ‘that’s no pleasing 
25 to him.’ 

“‘And then,’ quo’ he, ‘ye’ll be ill-sorted to hear that he’s 
like to be in the prison at Portanferry, if he disna tak a’ the 
better care o’ himsell, for there’s been warrants out to tak 
him as soon as he comes ower the water frae Allonby. And 
30 now, gudeman, an ever ye wish him weel, ye maun ride down 
to Portanferry, and let nae grass grow at the nag’s heels ; and 
if ye find him in confinement, ye maun stay beside him night 
and day, for a day or twa, for he’ll want friends that hae baith 


GUY MANNERING 


323 


heart and hand; and if ye neglect this ye’ll never rue but 
ance, for it will be for a’ your life.’ 

“ ‘But, safe us, man,’ quo’ I, ‘how did ye learn a’ this? it’s 
an unco way between this and Portanferry.’ 

“ ‘Never ye mind that,’ quo’ he, ‘them that brought us the 5 
news rade night and day, and ye maun be aff instantly if ye 
wad do ony gude — and sae I have naething mair to tell ye.’ 

— Sae he sat himsell doun and hirselled doun into the glen, 
where it wad hae been ill following him wi’ the beast, and I 
cam back to Charlies-hope to tell the gudewife, for I was 10 
uncertain what to do. It wad look unco-like, I thought, just 
to be sent out on a hunt-the-gowk errand wi’ a land-louper 
like that. But, Lord ! as the gudewife set up her throat about 
it,° and said what a shame it wad be if ye was to come to ony 
wrang, an I could help ye; and then in cam your letter that 15 
confirmed it. So I took to the kist, and out wi’ the pickle 
notes in case they should be needed, and a’ the bairns ran to 
saddle Dumple. By great luck I had taen the other beast to 
Edinbro’, sae Dumple was as fresh as a rose. Sae aff I set, and 
Wasp wi’ me, for ye wad really hae thought he kenn’d where 20 
I was gaun, puir beast ; and here I am after a trot o’ sixty 
miles, or near by. But Wasp rade thirty of them afore me on 
the saddle, and the puir doggie balanced itsell as ane o’ the 
weans wad hae dune, whether I trotted or cantered.” 

In this strange story Bertram obviously saw, supposing the 25 
warning to be true, some intimation of danger more violent 
and imminent than could be likely to arise from a few days’ 
imprisonment. At the same time it was equally evident that 
some unknown friend was working in his behalf. “Did you 
not say,” he asked Dinmont, “that this man Gabriel was of 30 
gypsy blood?” 

“It was e’en judged sae,” said Dinmont, “and I think this 
maks it likely ; for they aye ken where the gangs o’ ilk ither 


324 


GUY MANNERING 


are to be found, and they can gar news flee like a footba’ 
through the country an they like. An’ I forgat to tell ye, 
there’s been an unco inquiry after the auld wife that we saw 
in Bewcastle ; the Sheriff’s had folk ower the Limestane Edge 
5 after her, and down the Hermitage and Liddel, and a’ gates, 
and a reward offered for her to appear, o’ fifty pound sterling, 
nae less; and Justice Forster, he’s had out warrants, as I am 
tell’d, in Cumberland, and an unco ranging and riping they 
have had a’ gates seeking for her; but she’ll no be taen wi’ 
io them unless she likes, for a’ that.” 

“And ho\v comes that?” said Bertram. 

“Ou, I dinna ken; I daur say it’s nonsense, but they say 
she has gathered the fern-seed, and can gang ony gate she 
likes, like Jock-the-Giant-killer in the ballant, wi’ his coat o’ 
15 darkness and his shoon o’ swiftness. Ony way she’s a kind 
o’ queen amang the gypsies ; she is mair than a hundred year 
auld, folk say, and minds the coming in o’ the moss-troopers 
in the troublesome times when the Stuarts were put awa. 
Sae, if she canna hide hersell, she kens them that can hide 
20 her weel eneugh, ye needna doubt that. Odd, and I had 
kenn’d it had been MegMerrilies yon night at Tibb Mumps’s, 
I wad taen care how I crossed her.” 

Bertram listened with great attention to this account, which 
tallied so well in many points with what he had himself seen 
25 of this gypsy sibyl. After a moment’s consideration, he con- 
cluded it would be no breach of faith to mention what he 
had seen at Derncleugh to a person who held Meg in such 
reverence as Dinmont obviously did. He told his story 
accordingly, often interrupted by ejaculations such as, “Weel, 
30 the like o’ that now!” or, “Na, deil an that’s no something 
now !” 

When our Liddesdale friend had heard the whole to an end, 
he shook his great black head — “Weel, I’ll uphaud there’s 


GUY M ANNE RING 


325 


baith gude and ill amang the gypsies, and if they deal wi’ the 
Enemy, it’s a’ their ain business and no ours. — I ken what 
the streeking the corpse wad be, weel eneugh. Thae smuggler 
deevils, when ony o’ them’s killed in a fray, they’ll send for a 
wife like Meg far eneugh to dress the corpse ; odd, it’s a’ the 5 
burial they ever think o’ ! and then to be put into the ground 
without ony decency, just like dogs. But they stick to it, 
that they’ll be streekit, and hae an auld wife when they’re 
dying to rhyme ower prayers, and ball ants, and charms, as 
they ca’ them, rather than they’ll hae a minister to come and 10 
pray wi’ them — that’s an auld threep o’ theirs. But whisht, 

I hear the keeper coming.” 

Mac-Guffog accordingly interrupted their discourse by the 
harsh harmony of the bolts and bars, and showed his bloated 
visage at the opening door. “Come, Mr. Dinmont, we have 15 
put off locking up for an hour to oblige ye; ye must go to 
your quarters.” 

“Quarters, man? I intend to sleep here the night. There’s 
a spare bed in the Captain’s room.” 

“It’s impossible!” answered the keeper. 20 

“But I say it is possible, and that I winna stir — and there’s 
a dram t’ye.” 

Mac-Guffog drank off the spirits, and resumed his objec- 
tion. “But it’s against rule, sir; ye have committed nae 
malefaction.” 25 

“I’ll break your head,” said the sturdy Liddesdale man, 
“if ye say ony mair about it, and that will be malefaction 
eneugh to entitle me to ae night’s lodging wi’ you ony way.” 

“But I tell ye, Mr. Dinmont,” reiterated the keeper, “it’s 
against rule, and I behoved to lose my post.” 30 

“Weel, Mac-Guffog,” said Dandie, “I hae just twa things 
to say. Ye ken wha I am weel eneugh, and that I wadna 
loose a prisoner.” 


326 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“And how do I ken that?” answered the jailor. 

“Weel, if ye dinna ken that,” said the resolute farmer, “ye 
ken this ; — ye ken ye’re whiles obliged to be up our water in 
the way o’ your business ; now, if ye let me stay quietly here the 
5 night wi’ the Captain, I’se pay ye double fees for the room ; 
and if ye say no, ye shall hae the best sark-fu’ o’ sair banes 
that ever ye had in your life, the first time ye set a foot by 
Liddel-moat ! ” 

“Aweel, aweel, gudeman,” said Mac-Guffog, “a wilfu’ man 
io maun hae his way ; but if I am challenged for it by the justices, 
I ken wha sail bear the wyte”; — and having sealed this 
observation with a deep oath or two, he retired to bed, after 
carefully securing all the doors of the Bridewell. The bell 
from the town steeple tolled nine just as the ceremony was 
is concluded. 

“Although it’s but early hours,” said the farmer, who had 
observed that his friend looked somewhat pale and fatigued, 
“I think we had better lie down, Captain, if ye’re no agreeable 
to another cheerer. But troth, yere nae glass-breaker ; and 
20 neither am I, unless it be a screed wi’ the neighbors, or when 
I’m on a ramble.” 


CHAPTER XL VI 


Say from whence 0 

You owe this strange intelligence ? or why 
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way 
With such prophetic greeting? — 

Speak, I charge you. 

Macbeth. 

Upon the evening of the day when Bertram’s examination 
had taken place, Colonel Mannering arrived at Woodbourne 
from Edinburgh. He found his family in their usual state, 
which probably, so far as Julia was concerned, would not have 
been the case had she learned the news of Bertram’s arrest. 5 
But as, during the Colonel’s absence, the two young ladies 
lived much retired, this circumstance fortunately had not 
reached Woodbourne. A letter had already made Miss 
Bertram acquainted with the downfall of the expectations 
which had been formed upon the bequest of her kinswoman. IO 
Whatever hopes that news might have dispelled, the dis- 
appointment did not prevent her from joining her friend in 
affording a cheerful reception to the Colonel, to whom she 
thus endeavored to express the deep sense she entertained 
of his paternal kindness. She touched on her regret, that 15 
at such a season of the year he should have made, upon her 
account, a journey so fruitless. 

“That it was fruitless to you, my dear,” said the Colonel, 

“I do most deeply lament; but for my own share, I have 
made some valuable acquaintances, and have spent the time 20 

327 


328 


GUY MANNERING 


I have been absent in Edinburgh with peculiar satisfaction ; 
so that, on that score, there is nothing to be regretted. Even 
our friend the Dominie is returned thrice the man he was, 
from having sharpened his wits in controversy with the 
5 geniuses of the northern metropolis. But we must not fight 
our battles over again to-night — to-morrow we shall have 
the whole at breakfast.” 

The next morning at breakfast, however, the Dominie did 
not make his appearance. He had walked out, a servant 
io said, early in the morning. It was so common for him to 
forget his meals, that his absence never deranged the family. 
The housekeeper, a decent old-fashioned Presbyterian matron, 
having, as such, the highest respect for Sampson’s theological 
acquisitions, had it in charge on these occasions to take care 
is that he was no sufferer by his absence of mind, and therefore 
usually waylaid him on his return, to remind him of his 
sublunary wants, and to minister to their relief. It seldom, 
however, happened that he was absent from two meals to- 
gether, as was the case in the present instance. We must 
20 explain the cause of this unusual occurrence. 

The conversation which Mr. Pleydell had held with Mr. 
Mannering on the subject of the loss of Harry Bertram, had 
awakened all the painful sensations which that event had 
inflicted upon Sampson. The affectionate heart of the poor 
2 5 Dominie had always reproached him, that his negligence in 
leaving the child in the care of Frank Kennedy had been the 
proximate cause of the murder of the one, the loss of the 
other, the death of Mrs. Bertram, and the ruin of the family 
of his patron. It was a subject which he never conversed 
30 upon, — if indeed his mode of speech could be called con- 
versation at any time, — but it was often present to his 
imagination. The sort of hope so strongly affirmed and as- 
serted in Mrs. Bertram’s last settlement, had excited a 


GUY M ANNE RING 


329 


corresponding feeling in the Dominie’s bosom, which was 
exasperated into a sort of sickening anxiety, by the discredit 
with which Pleydell had treated it. — “Assuredly,” thought 
Sampson to himself, “he is a man of erudition, and well 
skilled in the weighty matters of the law ; but he is also a 5 
man of humorous levity and inconsistency of speech; and 
wherefore should he pronounce ex cathedra, as it were, on the 
hope expressed by worthy Madam Margaret Bertram of 
Singleside?” 

All this, I say, the Dominie thought to himself ; for had he 10 
uttered half the sentence, his jaws would have ached for a 
month under the unusual fatigue of such a continued exertion. 
The result of these cogitations was a resolution to go and 
visit the scene of the tragedy at Warroch Point, where he had 
not been for many years — not, indeed, since the fatal accident 15 
had happened. The walk was a long one, for the Point of 
Warroch lay on the farther side of the Ellangowan property, 
which was interposed between it and Woodbourne. 

At length, however, he reached the woods which he had 
made the object of his excursion, and traversed them with 20 
care, muddling his disturbed brains with vague efforts to recall 
every circumstance of the catastrophe. It will readily be 
supposed that the influence of local situation and association 
was inadequate to produce conclusions different from those 
which he had formed under the immediate pressure of the 25 
occurrences themselves. “With many a weary sigh, there- 
fore, and many a groan,” the poor Dominie returned from his 
hopeless pilgrimage, and weariedly plodded his way towards 
Woodbourne, debating at times in his altered mind a question 
which was forced upon him by the cravings of an appetite 50 
rather of the keenest, namely, whether he had breakfasted 
that morning or no ? — It was in this twilight humor, now 
thinking of the loss of the child, then involuntarily compelled 


330 


GUY M ANNE RING 


to meditate upon the somewhat incongruous subject of hung- 
beef , rolls, and butter, that his route, which was different from 
that which he had taken in the morning, conducted him past 
the small ruined tower, or rather vestige of a tower, called by 
5 the country people the Kaim of Derncleugh. 

The reader may recollect the description of this ruin in 
the twenty-seventh chapter of this narrative, as the vault in 
which young Bertram, under the auspices of Meg Merrilies, 
witnessed the death of Hatteraick’s lieutenant. The tradition 
io of the country added ghostly terrors to the natural awe 
inspired by the situation of this place, which terrors the 
gypsies, who so long inhabited the vicinity, had probably 
invented, or at least propagated, for their own advantage. 
The lights, often seen around the tower when used as the 
15 rendezvous of the lawless characters by whom it was occa- 
sionally frequented, were accounted for, under authority of 
these tales of witchery, in a manner at once convenient for 
private parties concerned, and satisfactory to the public. 

Now, it must be confessed, that our friend Sampson, 
20 although a profound scholar and mathematician, had not 
travelled so far in philosophy as to doubt the reality of witch- 
craft or apparitions. Born indeed at a time when a doubt 
in the existence of witches was interpreted as equivalent to 
a justification of their infernal practices, a belief of such 
25 legends had been impressed upon the Dominie as an article 
indivisible from his religious faith, and perhaps it would have 
been equally difficult to have induced him to doubt the one 
as the other. With these feelings, and in a thick misty day, 
which was already drawing to its close, Dominie Sampson 
30 did not pass the Kaim of Derncleugh without some feelings of 
tacit horror. 

What then was his astonishment, when, on passing the door 
— that door which was supposed to have been placed there 


GUY M ANNE RING 


331 


by one of the latter Lairds of Ellangowan to prevent presump- 
tuous strangers from incurring the dangers of the haunted 
vault — that door, supposed to be always locked, and the 
key of which was popularly said to be deposited with the pres- 
bytery — that door, that very door, opened suddenly, and the 5 
figure of Meg Merrilies, well known, though not seen for many 
a revolving year, was placed at once before the eyes of the 
startled Dominie ! She stood immediately before him in the 
footpath, confronting him so absolutely, that he could not 
avoid her except by fairly turning back, which his manhood io 
prevented him from thinking of. 

“I kenn’d ye wad be here,” she said with her harsh and 
hollow voice : “ I ken wha ye seek ; but ye maun do my bid- 
ding.” 

“Get thee behind me!” said the alarmed Dominie — 1 5 
“Avoid ye! — Conjuro te,° scelestissima — nequissima — 
spurcissima — iniquissima — atque miser rima ; conjuro te !!! ” 

Meg stood her ground against this tremendous volley of 
superlatives, which Sampson hawked up from the pit of his 
stomach, and hurled at her in thunder. “What, in the name 20 
of Sathan, are ye feared for, wi’ your French gibberish, that 
would make a dog sick ? Listen, ye stickit stibbler, to what 
I tell ye, or ye sail rue it while there’s a limb o’ ye hings to 
anither ! — Tell Colonel Mannering that I ken he’s seeking 
me. He kens, and I ken, that the blood will be wiped out, 25 
and the lost will be found, 

‘And Bertram’s right and Bertram’s might, 

Shall meet on Ellangowan height.’ 

Hae, there’s a letter to him ; I was gaun to send it in another 
w r ay. — I canna write mysell ; but I hae them that will baith 30 
write and read, and ride and rin for me. Tell him the time’s 
coming now, and the weird’s dreed, and the wheel’s turning. 


332 


GUY MANNERING 


( 


Bid him look at the stars as he has looked at them before. — 
Will ye mind a’ this?” 

“Assuredly,” said the Dominie, “I am dubious — for, 
woman, I am perturbed at thy words, and my flesh quakes 
5 to hear thee.” 

“They’ll do you nae ill though, and maybe muckle gude.” 

“Avoid ye! I desire no good that comes by unlawful 
means.” 

“Fule-body that thou art,” said Meg, stepping up to him 
io with a frown of indignation that made her dark eyes flash like 
lamps from under her bent brows, — “Fule-body ! if I meant 
ye wrang, couldna I clod ye ower that craig, and wad man ken 
how ye cam by your end mair than Frank Kennedy ? Hear 
ye that, ye worricow?” 

15 “In the name of all that is good,” said the Dominie, recoil- 
ing, and pointing his long pewter-headed walking-cane like a 
javelin at the supposed sorceress, — “in the name of all that 
is good, bide off hands ! I will not be handled — woman, stand 
off, upon thine own proper peril ! — desist, I say — I am 
20 strong — lo, I will resist !” — Here his speech was cut short : 
for Meg, armed with supernatural strength (as the Dominie 
asserted), broke in upon his guard, put by a thrust which he 
made at her with his cane, and lifted him into the vault, “as 
easily,” said he, “as I could sway a Kitchen’s Atlas.” 

25 “Sit down there,” she said, pushing the half-throttled 
preacher with some violence against a broken chair, — “sit 
down there, and gather your wind and your senses, ye 
black barrow-tram o’ the kirk that ye are — Are ye fou or 
fasting?” 

30 “Fasting — from all but sin,” answered the Dominie, who, 
recovering his voice, and finding his exorcisms only served to 
exasperate the intractable sorceress, thought it best to affect 
complaisance and submission, inwardly conning over, how- 


GUY M ANNE RING 


333 


ever, the wholesome conjurations which he durst no longer 
utter aloud. But as the Dominie’s brain was by no means 
equal to carry on two trains of ideas at the same time, a word 
or two of his mental exercise sometimes escaped, and mingled 
with his uttered speech in a manner ludicrous enough, espe- 5 
daily as the poor man shrunk himself together after every 
escape of the kind, from terror of the effect it might produce 
upon the irritable feelings of the witch. 

Meg, in the meanwhile, went to a great black cauldron that 
was boiling on a fire on the floor, and, lifting the lid, an odor 10 
was diffused through the vault, which, if the vapors of a 
witch’s cauldron could in aught be trusted, promised better 
things than the hell-broth which such vessels are usually 
supposed to contain. It was in fact the savor of a goodly 
stew, composed of fowls, hares, partridges, and moorgame, 15 
boiled in a large mess with potatoes, onions, and leeks, and 
from the size of the cauldron, appeared to be prepared for 
half-a-dozen people at least. “So ye hae eat naething a’ 
day?” said Meg, heaving a large portion of this mess into 
a brown dish, and strewing it savorily with salt and pepper . 1 20 

1 We must again have recourse to the contribution to 
Blackwood's Magazine, April 1817 : — 

“To the admirers of good eating, gypsy cookery seems to 
have little to recommend it. I can assure you, however, 
that the cook of a nobleman of high distinction, a person 
who never reads even a novel without an eye to the enlarge- 
ment of the culinary science, had added to the Almanach 
des Gourmands, a certain Potage a la Meg Merrilies de Dern- 
cleugh, consisting of game and poultry of all kinds, stewed 
with vegetables into a soup, which rivals in savor and rich- 
ness the gallant messes of Comacho’s wedding; and which 
the Baron of Bradwardine would certainly have reckoned 
among the E-pula lautiores .” 

The artist alluded to in this passage is Mons. Florence, 
cook to Henry and Charles, late Dukes of Buccleuch, and of 
high distinction in his profession. 


334 


GUY MANNER 1 NG 


“Nothing,” answered the Dominie — “ scelestissima ! — that 
is — gudewife.” 

“Hae then,” said she, placing the dish before him, “there’s 
what will warm your heart.” 

5 “I do not hunger — malefica 0 — that is to say — Mrs. 
Merrilies!” for he said unto himself, “the savor is sweet, 
but it hath been cooked by a Canidia or an Ericthoe.” 

“If ye dinna eat instantly, and put some sail! in ye, by the 
bread and the salt, I’ll put it down your throat wi’ the cutty 
io spoon, scaulding as it is, and whether ye will or no. Gape, 
sinner, and swallow ! ” 

Sampson, afraid of eye of newt,° and toe of frog, tigers’ 
chaudrons, and so forth, had determined not to venture ; but 
the smell of the stew was fast melting his obstinacy, which 
15 flowed from his chops as it were in streams of water, and the 
witch’s threats decided him to feed. 

“So ye like the meat ? ” said the hostess. 

“Yea,” answered the Dominie, “and I give thee thanks — 
sceleratissima! — which means — Mrs. Margaret.” 

20 “Now, ye maun tak a dram?” 

“I will,” quoth Sampson — “conjuro te — that is, I thank 
you heartily,” for he thought to himself, in for a penny, in 
for a pound ; and he fairly drank the witch’s health, in a cupful 
of brandy. When he had put this cope-stone upon Meg’s 
25 good cheer, he felt, as he said, “mightily elevated, and afraid 
of no evil which could befall unto him.” 

“Will ye remember my errand now?” said Meg Merrilies; 
“I ken by the cast o’ your ee that ye’re anither man than 
when you cam in.” 

30 “I will, Mrs. Margaret,” repeated Sampson stoutly; “I 
will deliver unto him the sealed yepistle, and will add what 
you please to send by word of mouth.” 

“Then I’ll make it short,” says Meg. “Tell him to look 


GUY M ANNE RING 


335 


at the stars without fail this night, and to do what I desire 
him in that letter, as he would wish 

‘That Bertram’s right and Bertram’s might 
Should meet on Ellangowan height.’ 

I have seen him twice when he saw na me ; I ken when he 5 
was in this country first, and I ken what’s brought him back 
again. Up, an’ to the gate ! ye’re ower lang here — follow 
me.” 

Sampson followed the sibyl accordingly, who guided him 
about a quarter of a mile through the woods, by a shorter cut to 
than he could have found for himself ; they then entered upon 
the common, Meg still marching before him at a great pace, 
until she gained the top of a small hillock which overhung the 
road. 

“Here,” she said, “stand still here. Look how the setting 15 
sun breaks through yon cloud that’s been darkening the lift a’ 
day. See where the first stream o’ light fa’s — it’s upon Dona- 
gild’s round tower — the auldest tower in the Castle o’ Ellan- 
gowan — that’s no for naething ! — See as it’s glooming to sea- 
ward abune yon sloop in the bay — that’s no for naething 20 
neither. — Here I stood on this very spot,” said she, drawing 
herself up so as not to lose one hair-breadth of her uncommon 
height, and stretching out her long sinewy arm and clenched 
hand, “Here I stood, when I tauld the last Laird o’ Ellan- 
gowan what was coming on his house — and did that fa’ to the 25 
ground ? — na — it hit even ower sair ! — And here, where I 
brake the wand of peace ower him — here I stand again — to 
bid God bless and prosper the just heir of Ellangowan that 
will sune be brought to his ain ; and the best laird he shall be 
that Ellangowan has seen for three hundred years. — I’ll 30 
no live to see it, maybe ; but there will be mony a blithe ee 
see it though mine be closed. And now, Abel Sampson, as 


336 


GUY MANNERING 


ever ye lo’ed the house of Ellangowan, away wi’ my message 
to the English Colonel, as if life and death were upon your 
haste ! ” 

So saying, she turned suddenly from the amazed Dominie, 
5 and regained with swift and long strides the shelter of the 
wood from which she had issued, at the point where it most 
encroached upon the common. Sampson gazed after her for 
a moment in utter astonishment, and then obeyed her di- 
rections, hurrying to Woodbourne at a pace very unusual for 
iohim, exclaiming three times, “Prodigious! prodigious! 
pro-di-gi-ous ! ” 


CHAPTER XL VII 


It is not madness 0 

That I have utter’d ; bring me to the test, 

And I the matter will re-word ; which madness 
Would gambol from. 

Hamlet. 

As Mr. Sampson crossed the hall with a bewildered look, 
Mrs. Allen, the good housekeeper, who, with the reverent 
attention which is usually rendered to the clergy in Scotland, 
was on the watch for his return, sallied forth to meet him — 
“What’s this o’t now, Mr. Sampson, this is waur than ever! 5 
— ye’ll really do yoursell som injury wi’ these lang fasts — 
naething’s sae hurtful to the stamach, Mr. Sampson ; — if ye 
would but put some peppermint draps in your pocket, or let 
Barnes cut ye a sandwich.” 

“Avoid thee!” quoth the Dominie, his mind running still 10 
upon his interview with Meg Merrilies, and making for the 
dining parlor, where his appearance gave great surprise. 
He was mud up to the shoulders, and the natural paleness 
of his hue was twice as cadaverous as usual, through terror, 
fatigue, and perturbation of mind. “What on earth is the 15 
meaning of this, Mr. Sampson?” said Mannering, who 
observed Miss Bertram looking much alarmed for her simple 
but attached friend. 

“Exorciso,” 0 — said the Dominie. 

“How, sir?” replied the astonished Colonel. 

“I crave pardon, honorable sir ! but my wits ” 

z 337 


20 


338 


GUY MANNERING 


“Are gone a wool-gathering, I think — pray, Mr. Sampson, 
collect yourself, and let me know the meaning of all this.” 

Sampson was about to reply, but finding his Latin formula 
of exorcism still came most readily to his tongue, he prudently 
5 desisted from the attempt, and put the scrap of paper which 
he had received from the gypsy into Mannering’s hand, who 
broke the seal and read it with surprise. “This seems to be 
some jest,” he said, “and a very dull one.” 

“It came from no jesting person,” said Mr. Sampson. 

“From whom then did it come?” demanded Mannering. 

The Dominie, who often displayed some delicacy of recol- 
lection in cases where Miss Bertram had an interest, re- 
membered the painful circumstances connected with Meg 
Merrilies, looked at the young ladies, and remained silent. 
15 “We will join you at the tea-table in an instant, Julia,” said 
the Colonel; “I see that Mr. Sampson wishes to speak to me 
alone. — And now they are gone, what, in Heaven’s name, 
Mr. Sampson, is the meaning of all this ? ” 

“It may be a message from Heaven,” said the Dominie, 
20 “but it came by Beelzebub’s postmistress. It was that witch, 
Meg Merrilies, who should have been burned with a tar- 
barrel twenty years since, for a harlot, thief, witch, and 
gypsy.” 

“Are you sure it was she?” said the Colonel with great 
25 interest. 

“Sure, honored sir? — Of a truth she is one not to be 
forgotten — the like o’ Meg Merrilies is not to be seen in any 
land.” 

The Colonel paced the room rapidly, cogitating with him- 
30 self. “To send out to apprehend her — but it is too distant 
to send to Mac-Morlan, and Sir Robert Hazlewood is a 
pompous coxcomb ; besides the chance of not finding her upon 
the spot, or that the humor of silence that seized her before 


GUY M ANNE RING 


339 


may again return ; — no, I will not, to save being thought a 
fool, neglect the course she points out. Many of her class 
set out by being impostors, and end by becoming enthusiasts, 
or hold a kind of darkling conduct between both lines, un- 
conscious almost when they are cheating themselves, or when 5 
imposing on others. — Well, my course is a plain one at any 
rate ; and if my efforts are fruitless, it shall not be owing to 
over- jealousy of my own character for wisdom.” 

With this he rang the bell, and ordering Barnes into his 
private sitting-room, gave him some orders, with the result 10 
of which the reader may be made hereafter acquainted. We 
must now take up another adventure, which is also to be 
woven into the story of this remarkable day. 

Charles Hazlewood had not ventured to make a visit at 
Woodbourne during the absence of the Colonel. Indeed 15 
Mannering’s whole behavior had impressed upon him an 
opinion that this would be disagreeable; and such was the 
ascendency which the successful soldier and accomplished 
gentleman had attained over the young man’s conduct, that in 
no respect would he have ventured to offend him. He saw, 20 
or thought he saw, in Colonel Mannering’s general conduct, 
an approbation of his attachment to Miss Bertram. But then 
he saw stilLmore plainly the impropriety of any attempt at 
a private correspondence, of which his parents could not be 
supposed to approve, and he respected this barrier interposed 25 
betwixt them, both on Mannering’s account, and as he was the 
liberal and zealous protector of Miss Bertram. “No,” said he 
to himself, “I will not endanger the comfort of my Lucy’s 
present retreat, until I can offer her a home of her ow T n.” 

With this valorous resolution, which he maintained, 30 
although his horse, from constant habit, turned his head 
down the avenue of Woodbourne, and although he himself 
passed the lodge twice every day, Charles Hazlewood with- 


340 


GUY M ANNE RING 


stood a strong inclination to ride down, just to ask how the 
young ladies were, and whether he could be of any service 
to them during Colonel Mannering’s absence. But on the 
second occasion he felt the temptation so severe, that he 
S resolved not to expose himself to it a third time ; and, con- 
tenting himself with sending hopes and inquiries, and so 
forth, to Woodbourne, he resolved to make a visit long 
promised to a family at some distance, and to return in such 
time as to be one of the earliest among Mannering’s visitors, 
io who should congratulate his safe arrival from his distant and 
hazardous expedition to Edinburgh. Accordingly, he made 
out his visit, and having arranged matters so as to be informed 
within a few hours after Colonel Mannering reached home, 
he finally resolved to take leave of the friends with whom 
15 he had spent the intervening time, with the intention of 
dining at Woodbourne, where he was in a great measure 
domesticated; and this (for he thought much more deeply 
on the subject than was necessary) would, he flattered him- 
self, appear a simple, natural, and easy mode of conducting 
20 himself. 

Fate, however, of which lovers make so many complaints, 
was, in this case, unfavorable to Charles Hazlewood. His 
horse’s shoes required an alteration, in consequence of the 
fresh weather having decidedly commenced. The lady of the 
25 house, "where he was a visitor, chose to indulge in her own 
room till a very late breakfast hour. His friend also insisted 
on showing him a litter of puppies, which his favorite pointer 
bitch had produced that morning. But these various inter- 
ruptions consumed the morning. Hazlewood got on horse- 
30 back at least three hours later than he intended, and, cursing 
fine ladies, pointers, and puppies, saw himself detained be- 
yond the time when he could, with propriety, intrude upon 
the family at Woodbourne. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


341 


He had passed, therefore, the turn of the road which led to 
that mansion, only edified by the distant appearance of the 
blue smoke, curling against the pale sky of the winter evening. 
All cause for haste was now over, and, slackening the reins 
upon his horse’s neck, he permitted the animal to ascend at 5 
his own leisure the steep sandy track between two high banks, 
which, rising to a considerable height, commanded, at length, 
an extensive view of the neighboring country. 

From the reverie in which he was sunk, he was suddenly 
roused by a voice too harsh to be called female, yet too shrill 10 
for a man: — “What’s kept you on the road sae lang? — 
maun ither folk do your wark ? ” 

He looked up; the spokeswoman was very tall, had a 
voluminous handkerchief rolled round her head, grizzled hair 
flowing in elf-locks from beneath it, a long red cloak, and a is 
staff in her hand, headed with a sort of spear-point — it was, 
in short, Meg Merrilies. Hazlewood had never seen this 
remarkable figure before; he drew up his reins in astonish- 
ment at her appearance, and made a full stop. “I think,” 
continued she, “they that hae taen interest in the house of 20 
Ellangowan suld sleep nane this night; three men hae been 
seeking ye, and you are gaun hame to sleep in your bed — d’ye 
think if the lad-bairn fa’s, the sister will do weel? na, na !” 

“I don’t understand you, good woman,” said Hazlewood 

“If you speak of Miss I mean of any of the late Elian- 25 

gowan family, tell me what I can do for them.” 

“Of the late Ellangowan family?” she answered with great 
vehemence; “of the late Ellangowan family! and when was 
there ever, or when will there ever be, a family of Ellangowan, 
but bearing the gallant name of the bauld Bertrams?” 3° 

“But what do you mean, good woman?” 

“I am nae good woman — a’ the country kens I am bad 
eneugh, and baith they and I may be sorry eneugh that I am 


342 


GUY M ANNE RING 


nae better. But I can do what good women canna, and daurna 
do. I can do what would freeze the blood o’ them that is 
bred in biggit wa’s for naething but to bind bairn’s heads, and 
to hap them in the cradle. Hear me — the guard’s drawn off 
5 at the Custom-house at Portanferry, and it’s brought up to 
Hazlewood House by your father’s orders, because he thinks 
his house is to be attacked this night by the smugglers ; — 
there’s naebody means to touch his house ; he has gude blood 
and gentle blood — I say little o’ him for himsell, but there’s 
io naebody thinks him worth meddling wi’. Send the horsemen 
back to their post, cannily and quietly — see an they winna 
hae wark the night — ay will they — the guns will flash and 
the swords will glitter in the braw moon.” 

“Good God! what do you mean?” said young Hazlewood; 
15 “your words and manner would persuade me you are mad, 
and yet there is a strange combination in what you say.” 

“I am not mad!” exclaimed the gypsy; “I have been 
imprisoned for mad — scourged for mad — banished for 
mad — but mad I am not. Hear ye, Charles Hazlewood 
20 of Hazlewood : d’ye bear malice against him that wounded 
you?” 

“No, dame, God forbid; my arm is quite well, and I have 
always said the shot was discharged by accident. I should be 
glad to tell the young man so himself.” 

25 “Then do what I bid ye,” answered Meg Merrilies, “and 
ye’ll do him mair gude than ever he did you ill ; for if he was 
left to his ill-wishers he would be a bloody corpse ere morn, or 
a banished man — but there’s ane abune a’. — Do as I bid 
you; send back the soldiers to Portanferry. There’s nae 
30 mair fear o’ Hazlewood House than there’s o’ Cruffelfell.” 
And she vanished with her usual celerity of pace. 

It would seem that the appearance of this female, and the 
mixture of frenzy and enthusiasm in her manner, seldom failed 


GUY MANNERING 


343 


to produce the strongest impression upon those whom she 
addressed. It is certain, at least, that young Hazlewood 
was strongly impressed by her sudden appearance and im- 
perative tone. He rode to Hazlewood at a brisk pace. It 
had been dark for some time before he reached the house, 5 
and on his arrival there, he saw a confirmation of what the 
sibyl had hinted. 

Thirty dragoon horses stood under a shed near the offices, 
with their bridles linked together. Three or four soldiers 
attended as a guard, while others stamped up and down with 10 
their long broadswords and heavy boots in front of the house. 
Hazlewood asked a non-commissioned officer from whence 
they came? 

“From Portanferry.” 

“Had they left any guard there ?” 15 

“No; they had been drawn off by order of Sir Robert 
Hazlewood for defence of his house, against an attack which 
was threatened by the smugglers.” 

Charles Hazlewood instantly went in quest of his father, 
and, having paid his respects to him upon his return, re- 20 
quested to know upon what account he had thought it neces- 
sary to send for a military escort. Sir Robert assured his 
son in reply, that from the information, intelligence, and 
tidings, which had been communicated to, and laid before 
him, he had the deepest reason to believe, credit, and be con- 25 
vinced, that a riotous assault would that night be attempted 
and perpetrated against Hazlewood House, by a set of smug- 
glers, gypsies, and other desperadoes. 

“And what, my dear sir,” said the son, “should direct the 
fury of such persons against ours rather than any other house 30 
in the country?” 

“I should rather think, suppose, and be of opinion, sir,” 
answered Sir Robert, “with deference to your wisdom and 


344 


GUY MANNERING 


experience, that on these occasions and times, the vengeance 
of such persons is directed or levelled against the most im- 
portant and distinguished in point of rank, talent, birth, and 
situation, who have checked, interfered with, and discoun- 
5 tenanced their unlawful and illegal and criminal actions or 
deeds.” 

Young Hazlewood, who knew his father’s foible, answered, 
that the cause of his surprise did not lie where Sir Robert 
apprehended, but that he only wondered they should think of 
io attacking a house where there were so many servants, and 
where a signal to the neighboring tenants could call in such 
strong assistance ; and added, that he doubted much whether 
the reputation of the family would not in some degree suffer 
from calling soldiers from their duty at the Custom-house, to 
is protect them, as if they were not sufficiently strong to defend 
themselves upon any ordinary occasion. He even hinted, 
that in case their house’s enemies should observe that this 
precaution had been taken unnecessarily, there would be no 
end of their sarcasms. 

20 Sir Robert Hazlewood was rather puzzled at this intimation, 
for, like most dull men, he heartily hated and feared ridicule. 
He gathered himself up, and looked with a sort of pompous 
embarrassment, as if he wished to be thought to despise the 
opinion of the public, which in reality he dreaded. 

25 “I really should have thought,” he said, “that the injury 
which had already been aimed at my house in your person, 
being the next heir and representative of the Hazlewood 
family, failing me — I should have thought and believed, I 
say, that this would have justified me sufficiently in the eyes 
30 of the most respectable and the greater part of the people, 
for taking such precautions as are calculated to prevent and 
impede a repetition of outrage.” 

“Really, sir,” said Charles, “I must remind you of what I 


GUY M ANNE RING 


345 


have often said before, that I am positive the discharge of the 
piece was accidental.” 

“Sir, it was not accidental,” said his father angrily; “but 
you will be wiser than your elders.” 

“Really, sir,” replied Hazlewood, “in what so intimately 5 
concerns myself ” 

“Sir, it does not concern you but in a very secondary 
degree — that is, it does not concern you, as a giddy young 
fellow, who takes pleasure in contradicting his father ; but it 
concerns the country, sir ; and the county, sir ; and the public, 10 
sir ; and the kingdom of Scotland, in so far as the interest of 
the Hazlewood family, sir, is committed, and interested, and 
put in peril, in, by, and through you, sir. And the fellow is 
in safe custody, and Mr. Glossin thinks ” 

“Mr. Glossin, sir?” 15 

“Yes, sir, the gentleman who has purchased Ellangowan — 
you know who I mean, I suppose ? ” 

“Allow me to ask, sir,” said Charles, “if it was by this 
man’s orders that the guard was drawn from Portanferry ? ” 

“Sir,” replied the Baronet, “I do apprehend that Mr. 20 
Glossin would not presume to give orders, or even an opinion, 
unless asked, in a matter in which Hazlewood House and the 
house of Hazlewood — meaning by the one this mansion- 
house of my family, and by the other typically, metaphorically, 
and parabolically, the family itself — I say then where the 25 
house of Hazlewood, or Hazlewood House, was so immediately 
concerned.” 

“I presume, however, sir,” said the son, “this Glossin 
approved of the proposal?” 

“Sir,” replied his father, “I thought it decent and right 30 
and proper to consult him as the nearest magistrate, as soon 
as report of the intended outrage reached my ears; and 
although he declined, out of deference and respect, as became 


346 


GUY M ANNE RING 


our relative situations, to concur in the order, yet he did 
entirely approve of my arrangement.” 

At this moment a horse’s feet were heard coming very 
fast up the avenue. In a few minutes the door opened, and 
5 Mr. Mac-Morlan presented himself. “I am under great 
concern to intrude, Sir Robert, but ” 

“Give me leave, Mr. Mac-Morlan,” said Sir Robert, with a 
gracious flourish of welcome; “this is no intrusion, sir; for 
your situation as Sheriff-substitute calling upon you to attend 
io to the peace of the county (and you, doubtless, feeling your- 
self particularly called upon to protect Hazlewood House), you 
have an acknowledged, and admitted, and undeniable right, 
sir, to enter the house of the first gentleman in Scotland, 
uninvited — always presuming you to be called there by the 
is duty of your office.” 

“It is indeed the duty of my office,” said Mac-Morlan, who 
waited with impatience an opportunity to speak, “that makes 
me an intruder.” 

“No intrusion!” reiterated the Baronet, gracefully waving 
20 his hand. 

“But permit me to say. Sir Robert,” said the Sheriff- 
substitute, “I do not come with the purpose of remaining 
here, but to recall these soldiers to Portanferry, and to assure 
you that I will answer for the safety of your house.” 

25 “To withdraw the guard from Hazlewood House!” ex- 
claimed the proprietor in mingled displeasure and surprise; 
“and you will be answerable for it ! And, pray, who are you, 
sir, that I should take your security, and caution, and pledge, 
official or personal, for the safety of Hazlewood House ? — I 
30 think, sir, and believe, sir, and am of opinion, sir, that if any 
one of these family pictures were deranged, or destroyed, or 
injured, it would be difficult for me to make up the loss upon 
the guarantee which you so obligingly offer me.” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


347 


“In that case I shall be sorry for it, Sir Robert,” answered 
the downright Mac-Morlan; “but I presume I may escape 
the pain of feeling my conduct the cause of such irreparable 
loss, as I can assure you there will be no attempt upon 
Hazlewood House whatever, and I have received information 5 
which induces me to suspect that the rumor was put afloat 
merely in order to occasion the removal of the soldiers from 
Portanferry. And under this strong belief and conviction, 

I must exert my authority as sheriff and chief magistrate of 
police, to order the whole, or greater part of them, back again, io 
I regret much, that by my accidental absence, a good deal of 
delay has already taken place, and we shall not now reach 
Portanferry until it is late.” 

As Mr. Mac-Morlan was the superior magistrate, and ex- 
pressed himself peremptory in the purpose of acting as such, 15 
the Baronet, though highly offended, could only say, “Very 
well, sir, it is very well. Nay, sir, take them all with you — 

I am far from desiring any to be left here, sir. We, sir, can 
protect ourselves, sir. But you will have the goodness to 
observe, sir, that you are acting on your own proper risk, sir, 20 
and peril, sir, and responsibility, sir, if anything shall happen 
or befall to Hazlewood House, sir, or the inhabitants, sir, or to 
the furniture and paintings, sir.” 

“I am acting to the best of my judgment and information, 

Sir Robert,” said Mac-Morlan, “and I must pray of you to 25 
believe so, and to pardon me accordingly. I beg you to 
observe it is no time for ceremony — it is already very late.” 

But Sir Robert without deigning to listen to his apologies, 
immediately employed himself with much parade in arming 
and arraying his domestics. 3° 


CHAPTER XLVIII 


Wi’ coulters and wi’ forehammers 
We garr’d the bars bang merrily, 

Until we came to the inner prison, 

Where Willie o’ Kinmont he did lie. 

Old Border Ballad . 0 

We return to Portanferry, and to Bertram and his honest- 
hearted friend, whom we left most innocent inhabitants of a 
place built for the guilty. The slumbers of the farmer were 
as sound as it was possible. 

5 But Bertram’s first heavy sleep passed away long before 
midnight, nor could he again recover that state of oblivion. 
Added to the uncertain and uncomfortable state of his mind, 
his body felt feverish and oppressed. This was chiefly owing 
to the close and confined air of the small apartment in wdiich 
io they slept. After enduring for some time the broiling and 
suffocating feeling attendant upon such an atmosphere, he 
rose to endeavor to open the window of the apartment, and 
thus to procure a change of air. Alas ! the first trial reminded 
him that he was in jail, and that the building being contrived 
is for security, not comfort, the means of procuring fresh air 
were not left at the disposal of the wretched inhabitants. 

Disappointed in this attempt, he stood by the unmanage- 
able window for some time. Little Wasp, though oppressed 
with the fatigue of his journey on the preceding day, crept 
20 out of bed after his master, and stood by him rubbing his 

348 


GUY M ANNE RING 


349 


shaggy coat against his legs, and expressing, by a murmuring 
sound, the delight which he felt at being restored to him. 
Thus accompanied, and waiting until the feverish feeling 
which at present agitated his blood should subside into a 
desire for warmth and slumber, Bertram remained for some 5 
time looking out upon the sea. 

At this moment his reflections were broken by little Wasp, 
who, attempting to spring up against the window, began to 
yelp and bark most furiously. The sound reached Dinmont’s 
ears, but without dissipating the illusion which had trans- 10 
ported him from this wretched apartment to the free air of 
his own green hills. “Hoy, Yarrow, man! — far yaud — 
far yaud ! ” he muttered between his teeth, imagining, doubt- 
less, that he was calling to his sheep-dog, and hounding him 
in shepherds’ phrases, against some intruders on the grazing. 15 
The continued barking of the terrier within was answered by 
the angry challenge of the mastiff in the courtyard, which 
had for a long time been silent, excepting only an. occasional 
short and deep note, uttered when the moon shone suddenly 
from among the clouds. Now, his clamor was continued and 20 
furious, and seemed to be excited by some disturbance distinct 
from the barking of Wasp, which had first given him the alarm 
and which, with much trouble, his master had contrived to 
still into an angry note of low growling. 

At last Bertram, whose attention was now fully awakened, 25 
conceived that he saw a boat upon the sea, and heard in good 
earnest the sound of oars and of human voices, mingling with 
the dash of the billows. Some benighted fishermen, he 
thought, or perhaps some of the desperate traders from the 
Isle of Man. They are very hardy, however, to approach so 30 
near to the Custom-house, where there must be sentinels. 

It is a large boat, like a long-boat, and full of people ; perhaps 
it belongs to the revenue service. — Bertram was confirmed in 


350 


GUY MANNERING 


this last opinion, by observing that the boat made for a little 
quay which ran into the sea behind the Custom-house, and, 
jumping ashore one after another, the crew, to the number of 
twenty hands, glided secretly up a small lane which divided 
S the Custom-house from the Bridewell, and disappeared from 
his sight, leaving only two persons to take care of the boat. 

The dash of men’s oars at first, and latterly the sup- 
pressed sounds of their voices, had excited the wrath of 
the wakeful sentinel in the courtyard, who now exalted his 
io deep voice into such a horrid and continuous din, that it 
awakened his brute master, as savage a ban-dog as himself. 
His cry from a window, of “How now, Tearum, what’s the 
matter, sir? — down, d — n ye, down!” produced no abate- 
ment of Tearum’s vociferation, which in part prevented his 
15 master from hearing the sounds of alarm which his ferocious 
vigilance was in the act of challenging. But the mate of the 
two-legged Cerberus was gifted with sharper ears than her 
husband. She also was now at the window; “B — t ye, 
gae down and let loose the dog,” she said, “they’re sporting 
20 the door of the Custom-house, and the auld sap at Hazle- 
wood House has ordered off the guard. But ye hae nae mair 
heart than a cat.” And down the Amazon sallied to per- 
form the task herself, while her helpmate, more jealous of 
insurrection within doors, than of storm from without, went 
25 from cell to cell to see that the inhabitants of each were 
carefully secured. *• 

These latter sounds, with which we have made the reader 
acquainted, had their origin in front of the house, and were 
consequently imperfectly heard by Bertram, whose apart- 
3 o ment, as we have already noticed, looked from the back part 
of the building upon the sea. He heard, however, a stir and 
tumult in the house, which did not seem to accord with the 
stern seclusion of a prison at the hour of midnight, and, 


GUY MANNERING 


351 


connecting them with the arrival of an armed boat at that 
dead hour, could not but suppose that something extraor- 
dinary was about to take place. In this belief he shook 
Dinmont by the shoulder — “Eh ! — Ay ! — Oh ! — Ailie, 
woman, it’s no time to get up yet,” groaned the sleeping man s 
of the mountains. More roughly shaken, however, he 
gathered himself up, shook his ears, and asked, “In the name 
of Providence, what’s the matter?” 

“That I can’t tell you,” replied Bertram; “but either the 
place is on fire, or some extraordinary thing is about to io 
happen. Are you not sensible of a smell of fire? Do you 
not hear what a noise there is of clashing doors within the 
house, and of hoarse voices, murmujs, and distant shouts 
on the outside? Upon my word, I believe something very 
extraordinary has taken place — Get up, for the love of is 
Heaven, and let us be on our guard.” 

Dinmont rose at the idea of danger, as intrepid and un- 
dismayed as any of his ancestors when the beacon-light was 
kindled. “Odd, Captain, this is a queer place! they winna 
let ye out in the day, and they winna let ye sleep in the night. 20 
Deil, but it wad break my heart in a fortnight. But, Lord- 
sake, what a racket they’re making now ! — Odd, I wish we 
had some light. Wasp — Wasp, whisht, hinny — whisht, 
my bonnie man, and let’s hear what they’re doing. — Deil’s 
in ye, will ye whisht?” 25 

They sought in vain among the embers the means of light- 
ing their candle, and the noise without still continued. Din- 
mont in his turn had recourse to the window, “Lordsake, 
Captain ! come here. — Odd, they hae broken the Custom- 
house ! ” 30 

Bertram hastened to the window, and plainly saw a mis- 
cellaneous crowd of smugglers, and blackguards of different 
descriptions, some carrying lighted torches, others bearing 


352 


GUY M ANNE RING 


packages and barrels down the lane to the boat that was 
lying at the quay, to which two or three other fisher-boats 
were now brought round. They were loading each of these 
in their turn, and one or two had already put off to seaward. 
5 “This speaks for itself,” said Bertram ; “but I fear something 
worse has happened. Do you perceive a strong smell of 
smoke, or is it my fancy ? ” 

“Fancy?” answered Dinmont, “there’s a reek like a 
killogie. Odd, if they burn the Custom-house, it will catch 
io here, and we’ll lunt like a tar-barrel a’ thegither. — Eh ! it 
wad be fearsome to be burnt alive for naething, like as if ane 
had been a warlock! — Mac-Guff og, hear ye!” — roaring 
at the top of his voice; “an ye wad ever hae a haill bane in 
• your skin, let’s out, man! let’s out!” 

15 The fire began now to rise high, and thick clouds of smoke 
rolled past the window, at which Bertram and Dinmont were 
stationed. Sometimes, as the wind pleased, the dim shroud 
of vapor hid everything from their sight; sometimes a red 
glare illuminated both land and sea, and shone full on the 
20 stern and fierce figures, who, wild with ferocious activity, 
were engaged in loading the boats. The fire was at length 
triumphant, and spouted in jets of flame out at each window 
of the burning building, while huge flakes of flaming materials 
came driving on the wind against the adjoining prison, and 
25 rolling a dark canopy of smoke over all the neighborhood. 

In the meantime a new and fierce attack was heard upon 
the outer gate of the Correction-house, which, battered with 
sledge-hammers and crows, was soon forced. The keeper, 
as great a coward as a bully, with his more ferocious wife, 
30 had fled ; their servants readily surrendered the keys. The 
liberated prisoners, celebrating their deliverance with the 
wildest yells of joy, mingled among the mob which had given 
them 'reedom. 


GUY MANNERING 


353 


In the midst of the confusion that ensued, three or four of 
the principal smugglers hurried to the apartment of Bertram 
with lighted torches, and armed with cutlasses and pistols. 

— “Der deyvil,” said the leader, “here’s our mark !” and two 
of them seized on Bertram ; but one whispered in his ear, 5 
“Make no resistance till you are in the street.’’ The same 
individual found an instant to say to Dinmont — “Follow 
your friend, and help when you see the time come.” 

In the hurry of the moment, Dinmont obeyed and followed 
close. The two smugglers dragged Bertram along the passage, 10 
downstairs, through the courtyard, now illuminated by the 
glare of fire, and into the narrow street to which the gate 
opened, where, in the confusion, the gang were necessarily 
in some degree separated from each other. A rapid noise, as 
of a body of horse advancing, seemed to add to the dis- 15 
turbance. “Hagel and wetter, what is that?” said the 
leader; “keep together, kinder, look to the prisoner.” - — But 
in spite of his charge, the two who held Bertram were the last 
of the party. 

The sounds and signs of violence were heard in front. The 20 
press became furiously agitated, while some endeavored to 
defend themselves, others to escape; shots were fired, and 
the glittering broadswords of the dragoons began to appear, 
flashing above the heads of the rioters. “Now,” said the 
warning whisper of the man who held Bertram’s left arm, 25 
the same who had spoken before, “shake off that fellow, 
and follow me.” 

Bertram, exerting his strength suddenly and effectually, 
easily burst from the grasp of the man who held his collar 
on the right side. The fellow attempted to draw a pistol, 30 
but was prostrated by a blow of Dinmont’s fist, which an 
ox could hardly have received without the same humiliation. 
“Follow me quick,” said the friendly partisan, and dived 
2a 


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GUY M ANNE RING 


through a very narrow and dirty lane which led from the 
main street. 

No pursuit took place. The attention of the smugglers 
had been otherwise and very disagreeably engaged by the 
5 sudden appearance of Mac-Morlan and the party of horse. 
The loud manly voice of the provincial magistrate was 
heard proclaiming the Riot Act, and charging “all those 
unlawfully assembled to disperse at their own proper peril.” 
This interruption would indeed have happened in time suffi- 
io cient to have prevented the attempt, had not the magistrate 
received upon the road some false information, which led 
him to think that the smugglers were to land at the Bay 
of Ellangowan. Nearly two hours were lost in consequence 
of this false intelligence, which it may be no lack of charity 
is to suppose that Glossin, so deeply interested in the issue of 
that night’s daring attempt, had contrived to throw in Mac- 
Morlan’s way, availing himself of the knowledge that the 
soldiers had left Hazlewood House, which would soon reach 
an ear so anxious as his. 

20 In the meantime, Bertram followed his guide, and was 
in his turn followed by Dinmont. The shouts of the mob, 
the trampling of the horses, the dropping pistol-shots, sunk 
more and more faintly upon their ears; when at the end 
of the dark lane they found a post-chaise with four horses. 
25 “Are you here, in God’s name?” said the guide to the 
postilion who drove the leaders. 

“Ay, troth am I,” answered Jock Jabos, “and I wish I 
were ony gate else.” 

“Open the carriage, then — You, gentlemen, get into it — 
30 in a short time you’ll be in a place of safety — and (to Ber- 
tram) remember your promise to the gypsy wife!” 

Bertram, resolving to be passive in the hands of a person 
who had just rendered him such a distinguished piece of 


GUY M ANNE RING 


355 


service, got into the chaise as directed. Dinmont followed; 
Wasp, who had kept close by them, sprung in at the same 
time, and the carriage drove off very fast. “Have a care o’ 
me,” said Dinmont, “but this is the queerest thing yet! — 
Odd, I trust they’ll no coup us — and then what’s to come o’ 
Dumple ? — I would rather be on his back than in the Deuke’s 
coach, God bless him.” 


CHAPTER XLIX 


The night drave on wi’ sangs and clatter,® 

And aye the ale was growing better. 

Tam o’ Shanter. 

We must now return to Woodbourne, which, it may be re- 
membered, we left just after the Colonel had given some 
directions to his confidential servant. When he returned, 
his absence of mind, and an unusual expression of thought 
5 and anxiety upon his features, struck the ladies whom he 
joined in the drawing-room. Mannering was not, however, 
a man to be questioned, even by those whom he most loved, 
upon the cause of the mental agitation which these signs 
expressed. The hour of tea arrived, and the party were 
io partaking of that refreshment in silence, when a carriage 
drove up to the door, and the bell announced the arrival 
of a visitor. “Surely,” said Mannering, “it is too soon by 
some hours.” 

There was a short pause, when Barnes; opening the door 
15 of the saloon, announced Mr. Pleydell. In marched the 
lawyer, whose well-brushed black coat, and well-powdered 
wig, together with his point ruffles, brown silk stockings, 
highly varnished shoes, and gold buckles, exhibited the pains 
which the old gentleman had taken to prepare his person for 
20 the ladies’ society. He was welcomed by Mannering with a 
hearty shake by the hand. “The very man I wished to see 
at this moment !” 


356 


GUY M ANNE RING 


357 


“Yes,” said the counsellor, “I told you I would take the 
first opportunity ; so I have ventured to leave the Court for a 
week in session time — no common sacrifice — but I had a 
notion I could be useful, and I was to attend a proof here 
about the same time. But will you introduce me to the young 5 
ladies ? — Ah ! there is one I should have known at once, 
from her family likeness! Miss Lucy Bertram, my love, 

I am most happy to see you.” — And he folded her in his 
arms, and gave her a hearty kiss on each side of the face, 
to which Lucy submitted in blushing resignation. 

“On n’arrete pas° dans un si beau chemin,” continued the 
gay old gentleman, and, as the Colonel presented him to Julia, 
took the same liberty with that fair lady’s cheek. Julia 
laughed, colored, and disengaged herself. “I beg a thousand 
pardons,” said the lawyer, with a bow which was not at all *5 
professionally awkward ; “age and old fashions give privileges, 
and I can hardly say whether I am most sorry just now at 
being too well entitled to claim them at all, or happy in having 
such an opportunity to exercise them so agreeably.” 

“Upon my word, sir,” said Miss Mannering, laughing, “if 20 
you make such flattering apologies, we shall begin to doubt 
whether we can admit you to shelter yourself under your 
alleged qualifications.” 

“I can assure you, Julia,” said the Colonel, “you are 
perfectly right; my friend the counsellor is a dangerous 2 5 
person; the last time I had the pleasure of seeing him, he 
was closeted with a fair lady, who had granted him a tUe-ci- 
tete at eight in the morning.” 

“Ay, but, Colonel,” said the counsellor, “you should add, 

I was more indebted to my chocolate than my charms for 3° 
so distinguished a favor, from a person of such propriety of 
demeanor as Mrs. Rebecca.” 

The vivacity of Mr. Pley dell’s look and manner, and the 


358 


GUY MANNERING 


quietness with which he made himself at home amused the 
ladies, but particularly Miss Mannering, who immediately 
gave the counsellor a great deal of flattering attention ; and 
more pretty things were said on both sides during the service 
5 of the tea-table than we have leisure to repeat. 

As soon as this was over, Mannering led the counsellor by 
the arm into a small study which opened from the saloon, 
and where, according to the custom of the family, there were 
always lights and a good fire in the evening, 
io “I see,” said Mr. Pleydell, “you have got something to 
tell me about the Ellangowan business — Is it terrestrial or 
celestial? What says my military Albumazar? Have you 
calculated the course of futurity? have you consulted your 
Ephemerides, your Almochoden, your Almuten?” 
is “No, truly, counsellor,” replied Mannering, “you are the 
only Ptolemy I intend to resort to upon the present occasion — 
a second Prospero, 0 I have broken my staff, and drowned my 
book far beyond the plummet 0 depth. But I have great news 
notwithstanding. Meg Merrilies, our Egyptian sibyl, has 
20 appeared to the Dominie this very day, and, as I conjecture, 
has frightened the honest man not a little.” 

“Indeed V 1 ’ 

“Ay, and she has done me the honor to open a corre- 
spondence with me, supposing me to be as deep in astrological 
25 mysteries as when we first met. Here is her scroll, delivered 
to me by the Dominie.” 

Pleydell put on his spectacles. “A vile greasy scrawl, 
indeed — and the letters are uncial or semi-uncial, as some- 
body calls your large text hand, and in size and perpendicu- 
30 larity resembles the ribs of a roasted pig — I can hardly 
make it out.” 

“Read aloud,” said Mannering. 

“I will try,” answered the lawyer. “‘You are a good 


GUY MANNERING 


359 


seeker, but a bad finder ; you set yourself to prop a falling 
home, but had a gey guess it would rise again. Lend your 
hand to the wark that’s near, as you lent your ee to the weird 
that was far. Have a carriage this night by ten o’clock, at 
the end of the Crooked Dykes at Portanferry, and let it bring 5 
the folk to Woodbourne that shall ask them, if they be there in 
God’s name.’ — Stay, here follows some poetry — 

‘ Dark shall be light, 

And wrong done to right , 

When Bertram’s right and Bertram’s might 10 

Shall meet on Ellangowan’s height.’ 

A most mystic epistle truly and closes in a vein of poetry 
worthy of the Cumaean sibyl 0 — And what have you done?” 

“Why,” said Mannering, rather reluctantly, “I was loth 
to risk any opportunity of throwing light on this business. 1 5 
The woman is perhaps crazed, and these effusions may arise 
only from visions of her imagination ; — but you were of 
opinion that she knew more of that strange story than she 
ever told.” 

“And so,” said Pleydell, “you sent a carriage to the place 20 
named?” 

“You wall laugh at me if I own I did,” replied the Colonel. 

“Who, I?” replied the advocate. “No, truly, I think it 
was the wisest thing you could do.” 

“Yes,” answered Mannering, well pleased to have escaped 25 
the ridicule he apprehended ; “you know the worst is paying 
the chaise-hire — I sent a post-chaise and four from Kipple- 
tringan, with instructions corresponding to the letter — the 
horses will have a long and cold station on the outposts 
to-night if our intelligence be false.” 30 

“Ay, but I think it will prove otherwise,” said the lawyer. 
“This woman has played a part till she believes it ; or, if she 


360 


GUY M ANNE RING 


be a thorough-paced impostor, without a single grain of self- 
delusion to qualify her knavery, still she may think herself 
bound to act in character — this I know, that I could get 
nothing out of her by the common modes of interrogation, 
5 and the wisest thing we can do is to give her an opportunity 
of making the discovery her own way. And now have you 
more to say, or shall we go to the ladies ? ” 

“Why, my mind is uncommonly agitated,” answered the 
Colonel, “and — but I really have no more to say — only I 
io shall count the minutes till the carriage returns ; but you 
cannot be expected to be so anxious.” 

“Why, no — use is all in all,” said the more experienced 
lawyer, — “I am much interested certainly, but I think I shall 
be able to survive the interval, if the ladies will afford us some 
15 music.” 

So saying, he rose and led the way into the next room, 
where Miss Mannering, at his request, took her seat at the 
harpsichord. Lucy Bertram, who sung her native melodies 
very sweetly, was accompanied by her friend upon the instru- 
20 ment, and Julia afterwards performed some of Scarlatti’s 
sonatas with great brilliancy. The old lawyer, scraping a 
little upon the violoncello, and being a member of the gentle- 
men’s concert in Edinburgh, was so greatly delighted with 
this mode of spending the evening, that I doubt if he once 
25 thought of eating until Barnes informed the company that 
supper was ready. 

“Tell Mrs. Ai an to have something in readiness,” said the 
Colonel — “I expect — that is, I hope — perhaps some 
company may be here to-night; and let the men sit up, and 
30 do not lock the upper gate on the lawn until I desire you.” 

“Lord, sir,” said Julia, “whom can you possibly expect 
to-night?” 

“Why, some persons, strangers to me, talked of calling in 


GUY M ANNE RING 


361 


the evening on business,” answered her father, not without 
embarrassment, for he would have little brooked a disappoint- 
ment which might have thrown ridicule on his judgment ; “it 
is quite uncertain.” 

“Well, we shall not pardon them for disturbing our party,” .5 
said Julia, “unless they bring as much good-humor, and as 
susceptible hearts, as my friend and admirer, for so he has 
dubbed himself, Mr. Pleydell.” 

“Ah, Miss Julia,” said Pleydell, offering his arm with an 
a : r of gallantry to conduct her into the eating-room, “the 10 
time has been — when I returned from Utrecht in the year 
1738 ” 

“Pray don’t talk of it,” answered the young lady, — “we 
like you much better as you are — Utrecht, in heaven’s 
name ! — I dare say you have spent all the intervening years 15 
in getting rid so completely of the effects of your Dutch 
education.” 

“Oh, forgive me, Miss Mannering,” said the lawyer; “the 
Dutch are a much more accomplished people in point of 
gallantry than their volatile neighbors are willing to admit. 20 
They are constant as clock-work in their attentions.” 

“I should tire of that,” said Julia. 

“Imperturbable in their good temper,” continued Pleydell. 

“Worse and worse,” said the young lady. 

“And then,” said the old beau gargon, “although for six 25 
times three hundred and sixty-five days, your swain has placed 
the capuchin round your neck, and the stove under your feet, 
and driven your little sledge upon the ice in winter, and your 
cabriole through the dust in summer, you may dismiss him at 
once, without reason or apology, upon the two thousand one 30 
hundred and ninetieth day, which, according to my hasty 
calculation, and without reckoning leap-years, will complete 
the cycle of the supposed adoration, and that without your 


362 


GUY MANNERING 


amiable feelings having the slightest occasion to be alarmed 
for the consequences to those of Mynheer.” 

“Well,” replied Julia, “that last is truly a Dutch recom- 
mendation, Mr. Pleydell — crystal and hearts would lose all 
5 their merit in the world, if it were not for their fragility.” 

While the old gentleman, pleased with Miss Mannering’s 
liveliness and attention, rattled away for her amusement 
and his own, the impatience of Colonel Mannering began to 
exceed all bounds. He declined sitting down at table, under 
10 pretence that he never ate supper ; and traversed the parlor, 
in which they were, with hasty and impatient steps, now 
throwing up the window to gaze upon the dark lawn, now 
listening for the remote sound of the carriage advancing up 
the avenue. At length, in a feeling of uncontrollable im- 
15 patience, he left the room, took his hat and cloak, and pur- 
sued his walk up the avenue, as if his so doing would hasten 
the approach of those whom he desired to see. “I really 
wish,” said Miss Bertram, “Colonel Mannering would not 
venture out after night-fall. You must have heard, Mr. 
20 Pleydell, what a cruel fight we had.” 

“Oh, with the smugglers?” replied the advocate — “they 
are old friends of mine. I was the means of bringing some of 
them to justice a long time since, when Sheriff of this county.” 

At that instant the Colonel entered the room. “I can 
25 hear nothing of them yet,” he said; “still, however, we will 
not separate — Where is Dominie Sampson?” 

“Here, honored sir.” 

“What is that book you hold in your hand, Mr. Sampson ? ” 

“It’s even the learned De Lyra, sir — I would crave his 
30 honor Mr. Pleydell’s judgment, always with his best leisure, 
to expound a disputed passage.” 

“I am not in the vein, Mr. Sampson,” answered Pleydell; 
“here’s metal more attractive — I do not despair to engage 


GUY M ANNE RING 


363 


these two young ladies in a glee or a catch, wherein I, even 
I myself, will adventure myself for the bass part — Hang De 
Lyra, man ; keep him for a fitter season.” 

The disappointed Dominie shut his ponderous tome, much 
marvelling in his mind how a person, possessed of the lawyer’s 5 
erudition, could give his mind to these frivolous toys. But 
the counsellor, indifferent to the high character for learning 
which he was trifling away, filled himself a large glass of 
Burgundy, and after preluding a little with a voice somewhat 
the worse for wear, gave the ladies a courageous invitation to io 
join in ‘‘We be three poor Mariners,” and accomplished his 
own part therein with great eclat . 0 

“Are you not withering your roses with sitting up so late, 
my young ladies?” said the Colonel. 

“Not a bit, sir,” answered Julia ; “your friend, Mr. Pleydell, 15 
threatens to become a pupil of Mr. Sampson’s to-morrow, so 
we must make the most of our conquest to-night.” 

This led to another musical trial of skill, and that to lively 
conversation. At length, when the solitary sound of one 
o’clock had long since resounded on the ebon ear of night, and 20 
the next signal of the advance of time was close approaching, 
Mannering, whose impatience had long subsided into dis- 
appointment and despair, looked at his watch, and said, “We 
must now give them up” — when at that instant — But 
what then befell will require a separate chapter. 25 


CHAPTER L 


Justice. This does indeed confirm each circumstance . 0 

The gipsy told 

No orphan, nor without a friend art thou — 

I am thy father, here's thy mother, there 
Thy uncle — This thy first cousin, and these 
Are all thy near relations. 

The Critic. 

As Mannering replaced his watch, he heard a distant and 
hollow sound — “It is a carriage for certain — no, it is but the 
sound of the wind among the leafless trees. Do come to the 
window, Mr. Pleydell.” The counsellor, who, with his large 
5 silk handkerchief in his hand, was expatiating away to Julia 
upon some subject which he thought was interesting, obeyed, 
however, the summons, first wrapping the handkerchief round 
his neck by way of precaution against the cold air. The 
sound of wheels became now very perceptible, and Pleydell, 
io as if he had reserved all his curiosity till that moment, ran 
out to the hall. The Colonel rung for Barnes to desire that 
the persons who came in the carriage might be shown into 
a separate room, being altogether uncertain whom it might 
contain. It stopped, however, at the door, before his purpose 
15 could be fully explained. A moment after, Mr. Pleydell 
called out, “Here’s our Liddesdale friend, I protest, with 
a strapping young fellow of the same calibre.” His voice 
arrested Dinmont, who recognized him with equal surprise 

364 


GUY M ANNE RING 


365 


and pleasure. “Odd, if it’s your honor, we’ll a’ be as right 
and tight as thack and rape can make us.” 1 

But while the farmer stopped to make his bow, Bertram, 
dizzied with the sudden glare of light, and bewildered with 
the circumstances of his situation, almost unconsciously 5 
entered the open door of the parlor, and confronted the 
Colonel, who was just advancing towards it. The strong 
light of the apartment left no doubt of his identity, and 
he himself was as much confounded with the appearance 
of those to whom he so unexpectedly presented himself , io 
as they were by the sight of so utterly unlooked-for an 
object. It must be remembered that each individual present 
had their own peculiar reasons for looking with terror 
upon what seemed at first sight a spectral apparition. 
Mannering saw before him the man whom he supposed is 
he had killed in India; Julia beheld her lover in a most 
peculiar and hazardous situation ; and Lucy Bertram at 
once knew the person who had fired upon young Hazle- 
w r ood. Bertram, who interpreted the fixed and motionless 
astonishment of the Colonel into displeasure at his intrusion, 20 
hastened to say that it was involuntary, since he had been 
hurried hither without even knowing whither he was to be 
transported. 

“Mr. Brown, I believe !” said Colonel Mannering. 

“Yes, sir,” replied the young man modestly, but with firm- 25 
ness, “the same you knew in India; and who ventures to 
hope, that what you did then know of him is not such as 
should prevent his requesting you would favor him with your 
attestation to his character, as a gentleman and man of 
honor.” 30 

1 When a farmer’s crop is got safely into the barn-yard, 
it is said to be made fast with thack and rape — Anglic 6 , 
straw and rope. 


366 


GUY MANNERING 


“Mr. Brown — I have been seldom — never — so much 
surprised — certainly, sir, in whatever passed between us, you 
have a right to command my favorable testimony.” 

At this critical moment entered the counsellor and Din- 
5 mont. The former beheld, to his astonishment, the Colonel 
but just recovering from his first surprise, Lucy Bertram 
ready to faint with terror, and Miss Mannering in an agony 
of doubt and apprehension, which she in vain endeavored to 
disguise or suppress. “What is the meaning of all this?” 
iosaid he; “has this young fellow brought the Gorgon’s head 
in his hand? — let me look at him. — By heaven!” he 
muttered to himself, “the very image of old Ellangowan! 

— Yes, the same manly form and handsome features, but with 
a world of more intelligence in the face — Yes ! — the witch 

15 has kept her word.” 

All this passed with such rapidity, that it was over before 
the Dominie had recovered himself from a fit of absence, shut 
the book which he had been studying in a corner, and advanc- 
ing to obtain a sight of the strangers, exclaimed at once, upon 
20 beholding Bertram, “If the grave can give up the dead, that 
is my dear and honored master ! ” 

“We’re right after all, by Heaven! I was sure I was 
right,” said the lawyer; “he is the very image of his father. 

— Come, Colonel, what do you think of, that you do not bid 
25 your guest welcome? I think — T believe — I trust we’re 

right — never saw such a likeness ! — But patience — 
Dominie, say not a word. — ■ Sit down, young gentleman.” 

“I beg pardon, sir; if I am, as I understand, in Colonel 
Mannering’s house, I should wish first to know if my accidental 
30 appearance here gives offence, or if I am welcome?” 

Mannering instantly made an effort. “Welcome? most 
certainly, especially if you can point out how I can serve you. 
I believe I may have some wrongs to repair towards you — I 


GUY M ANNE RING 


367 


have often suspected so; but your sudden and unexpected 
appearance, connected with painful recollections, prevented 
my saying at first, as I now say, that whatever has procured 
me the honor of this visit, it is an acceptable one.” 

Bertram bowed with an air of distant, yet civil acknowledg- 5 
ment, to the grave courtesy of Mannering. 

“Julia, my love, you had better retire. Mr. Brown, you 
will excuse my daughter; there are circumstances which I 
perceive rush upon her recollection.” 

Miss Mannering rose and retired accordingly; yet, as she io 
passed Bertram, could not suppress the words, “Infatuated! 
a second time!” but so pronounced as to be heard by him 
alone. Miss Bertram accompanied her friend, much sur- 
prised, but without venturing a second glance at the object 
of her terror. is 

The remaining part of the company would have formed 
no bad group for a skilful painter. Each was too much 
embarrassed with his own sensations to observe those of the 
others. Bertram most unexpectedly found himself in the 
house of one, whom he was alternately disposed to dislike 20 
as his personal enemy, and to respect as the father of Julia; 
Mannering was struggling between his high sense of courtesy 
and hospitality, his joy at finding himself relieved from the 
guilt of having shed life in a private quarrel, and the former 
feelings of dislike and prejudice, which revived in his haughty 25 
mind at the sight of the object against whom he had enter- 
tained them; Sampson, supporting his shaking limbs by 
leaning on the back of a chair, fixed his eyes upon Bertram, 
with a staring expression of nervous anxiety which convulsed 
his whole visage ; Dinmont, enveloped in his loose shaggy 30 
great-coat, and resembling a huge bear erect upon his hinder 
legs, stared on the whole scene with great round eyes that 
witnessed his amazement. 


368 


GUY MANNERING 


The counsellor alone was in his element, shrewd, prompt, 
and active; he already calculated the prospect of brilliant 
success in a strange, eventful, and mysterious lawsuit, and 
no young monarch, flushed with hopes, and at the head of 
5 a gallant army, could experience more glee when taking the 
field on his first campaign. He bustled about with great 
energy, and took the arrangement of the whole explanation 
upon himself. 

“Come, come, gentlemen, sit down; this is all in my prov- 
io ince : you must let me arrange it for you. Sit down, my dear 
Colonel, and let me manage; sit down, Mr. Brown, aid 
quocunque alio nomine vocaris 0 — Dominie, take your seat 
— draw in your chair, honest Liddesdale. Well, you are all 
seated at last ; take a glass of wine till I begin my catechism 
is methodically. And now,” turning to Bertram, “my dear 
boy, do you know who or what you are?” 

In spite of his perplexity, the catechumen could not help 
laughing at this commencement, and answered, “Indeed, sir, 
I formerly thought I did ; but I own late circumstances have 
20 made me somewhat uncertain.” 

“Then tell us what you formerly thought yourself.” 

“Why, I was in the habit of thinking and calling myself 
Vanbeest Brown, who served as a cadet or volunteer under 

Colonel Mannering, when he commanded the regiment, 

25 in which capacity I was not unknown to him.” 

“There,” said the Colonel, “I can assure Mr. Brown of his 
identity ; and add, what his modesty may have forgotten, that 
he was distinguished as a young man of talent and spirit.” 

“So much the better, my dear sir,” said Mr. Pleydell ; 
30 “but that is to general character — Mr. Brown must tell us 
where he was born.” 

“In Scotland, I believe, but the place uncertain.” 

“Where educated ? ” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


369 


“In Holland, certainly.” 

“Do you remember nothing of your early life before you 
left Scotland ? ” 

“Very imperfectly; yet I have a strong idea, perhaps more 
deeply impressed upon me by subsequent hard usage, that 5 
I was during my childhood the object of much solicitude and 
affection. I have an indistinct remembrance of a good-looking 
man whom I used to call papa, and of a lady who was infirm 
in health, and who, I think, must have been my mother ; but 
it is an imperfect and confused recollection. I remember too 10 
a tall thin kind-tempered man in black, who used to teach 
me my letters and walk out with me ; — and I think the very 
last time ” 

Here the Dominie could contain himself no longer. While 
every succeeding word served to prove that the child of his 15 
benefactor stood before him, he had struggled with the utmost 
difficulty to suppress his emotions, but, when the juvenile 
recollections of Bertram turned towards his tutor and his 
precepts, he was compelled to give way to his feelings. He 
rose hastily from his chair, and with clasped hands, trembling 20 
limbs, and streaming eyes, called out aloud, “Harry Bertram ! 

— look at me — was I not the man ? ” 

“Yes !” said Bertram, starting from his seat as if a sudden 
light had burst in upon his mind, — “Yes — that was my 
name ! — and that is the voice and the figure of my kind old 25 
master !” 

The Dominie threw himself into his arms, pressed him a 
thousand times to his bosom in convulsions of transport, which 
shook his whole frame, sobbed hysterically, and, at length, in 
the emphatic language of Scripture, lifted up his voice and 30 
wept aloud. Colonel Mannering had recourse to his hand- 
kerchief; Pleydell made wry faces, and wiped the glasses 
of his spectacles ; and honest Dinmont, after two loud blub- 
2b 


370 


GUY M ANNE RING 


bering explosions, exclaimed, “Deil’s in the man! he’s garr’d 
me do that I haena done since my auld mither died.” 

“Come, come,” said the counsellor at last, “silence in 
the court. — We have a clever party to contend with ; we 
5 must lose no time in gathering our information — for any- 
thing I know, there may be something to be done before 
daybreak.” 

“I will order a horse to be saddled, if you please,” said 
the Colonel. 

io “No, no, time enough — time enough — but come, 
Dominie, I have allowed you a competent space to express 
your feelings. I must circumduce the term — you must let 
me proceed in my examination.” 

The Dominie was habitually obedient to any one who chose 
is to impose commands upon him; he sunk back into his chair, 
spread his checked handkerchief over his face, to serve, as I 
suppose, for the Grecian painter’s veil, and, from the action of 
his folded hands, appeared for a time engaged in the act of 
mental thanksgiving. He then raised his eyes over the screen, 
20 as if to be assured that the pleasing apparition had not melted 
into air — then again sunk them to resume his internal act of 
devotion, until he felt himself compelled to give attention to 
the counsellor, from the interest which his questions excited. 

“And now,” said Mr. Pleydell, after several minute in- 
25 quiries concerning his recollection of early events — “And 
now, Mr. Bertram, for I think we ought in future to call you 
by your own proper name, will you have the goodness to let 
us know every particular which you can recollect concerning 
the mo^le of your leaving Scotland?” 

30 “Indeed, sir, to say the truth, though the terrible outlines 
of that day are strongly impressed upon my memory, yet 
somehow the very terror which fixed them there has in a great 
measure confounded and confused the details. I recollect. 


GUY M ANNE RING 371 

however, that I was walking somewhere or other — in a wood, 

I think ” 

“Oh yes, it was in Warroch Wood, my dear,” said the 
Dominie. 

“Hush, Mr. Sampson,” said the lawyer. 5 

“Yes, it was in a wood,” continued Bertram, as long past 
and confused ideas arranged themselves in his reviving recol- 
lection ; “and some one was with me — this worthy and 
affectionate gentleman, I think.” 

“Oh, ay, ay, Harry, Lord bless thee — it was even I my- io 
self.” 

“Be silent, Dominie, and don’t interrupt the evidence,” 
said Pleydell. — “And so, sir?” to Bertram. 

“And so, sir,” continued Bertram, “like one of the changes 
of a dream, I thought I was on horseback before my guide.” is 

“No, no,” exclaimed Sampson, “never did I put my own 
limbs, not to say thine, into such peril.” 

“On my word this is intolerable! — Look ye, Dominie, if 
you speak another word till I give you leave, I will read three 
sentences out of the Black Acts, whisk my cane round my 20 
head three times, undo all the magic of this night’s work, and 
conjure Harry Bertram back again into Vanbeest Brown.” 

“Honored and worthy sir,” groaned out the Dominie, “I 
humbly crave pardon — it was but verbum volens.” 0 

“Well, nolens volens, 0 you must hold your tongue,” said 25 
Pleydell. 

“Pray, be silent, Mr. Sampson,” said the Colonel; “it is 
of great consequence to your recovered friend, that you permit 
Mr. Pleydell to proceed in his inquiries.” 

“I am mute,” said the rebuked Dominie. 30 

“On a sudden,” continued Bertram, “two or three men 
sprung out upon us, and we were pulled from horseback. I 
have little recollection of anything else, but that I tried to 


372 


GUY MANNERING 


escape in the midst of a desperate scuffle, and fell into the 
arms of a very tall woman who started from the bushes, and 
protected me for some time — the rest is all confusion and 
dread — a dim recollection of a sea-beach, and a cave, and of 
5 some strong potion which lulled me to sleep for a length of 
time. In short, it is all a blank in my memory, until I recollect 
myself first an ill-used and half-starved cabin-boy aboard 
a sloop, and then a school-boy in Holland under the protec- 
tion of an old merchant, who had taken some fancy for me/’ 
io “And what account/ 5 said Mr. Pleydell, “did your guardian 
give of your parentage?” 

“A very brief one/ 5 answered Bertram, “and a charge to 
inquire no further. I was given to understand, that my 
father was concerned in the smuggling trade carried on on the 
i s eastern coast of Scotland, and was killed in a skirmish with 
the revenue officers ; that his correspondents in Holland had 
a vessel on the coast at the time, part of the crew of which 
were engaged in the affair, and that they brought me off 
after it was over, from a motive of compassion, as I was left 
20 destitute by my father’s death. As I grew older there was 
much of tills story seemed inconsistent with my own recollec- 
tions, but what could I do ? I had no means of ascertaining 
my doubts, nor a single friend with whom I could com- 
municate or canvass them. The rest of my story is known to 
25 Colonel Mannering : I went out to India to be a clerk in 
a Dutch house ; their affairs fell into confusion — I betook 
myself to the military profession, and, I trust, as yet I have 
not disgraced it.” 

“Thou art a fine young fellow, I’ll be bound for thee,” said 
30 Pleydell, “and since you have wanted a father so long, I wish 
from my heart I could claim the paternity myself. But this 
affair of young Hazlewood ” 

“Was merely accidental,” said Bertram. “I was travelling 


GUY M ANNE RING 


373 


in Scotland for pleasure, and after a week’s residence with my 
friend, Mr. Dinmont, with whom I had the good fortune to 
form an accidental acquaintance •” 

“It was my gude fortune that,” said Dinmont; “odd, my 
brains wad hae been knockit out by twa blackguards, if it 5 
hadna been for his four quarters.” 

“Shortly after we parted at the town of , I lost my 

baggage by thieves, and it was while residing at Kipple- 
tringan I accidentally met the young gentleman. As I was 
approaching to pay my respects to Miss Mannering, whom 10 
I had known in India, Mr. Hazlewood, conceiving my appear- 
ance none of the most respectable, commanded me rather 
haughtily to stand back, and so gave occasion to the fray in 
which I had the misfortune to be the accidental means of 
wounding him. — And now, sir, that I have answered all your is 
questions ” 

“No, no, not quite all,” said Pleydell, winking sagaciously; 
“there are some interrogatories which I shall delay till to- 
morrow, for it is time, I believe, to close the sederunt for this 
night, or rather morning.” 20 

“Well, then, sir,” said the young man, “to vary the phrase, 
since I have answered all the questions which you have 
chosen to ask to-night, will you be so good as to tell me 
who you are that take such interest in my affairs, and whom 
you take me to be, since my arrival has occasioned such 25 
commotion?” 

“Why, sir, for myself,” replied the counsellor, “I am Paulus 
Pleydell, an advocate at the Scottish bar ; and for you, it is 
not easy to say distinctly who you are at present ; but I trust 
in a short time to hail you by the title of Henry Bertram, Esq., 30 
representative of one of the oldest families in Scotland, and 
heir of tailzie 0 and provision to the estate of Ellangowan — 
Ay,” continued he, shutting his eyes and speaking to himself, 


374 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“we must pass over his father, and serve him heir to his 
grandfather Lewis, the entailer 0 — the only wise man of his 
family that I ever heard of.” 

They had now risen to retire to their apartments for the 
5 night, when Colonel Mannering walked up to Bertram, as he 
stood astonished at the counsellor’s words. “I give you joy,” 
he said, “of the prospects which fate has opened before you. 
I was an early friend of your father, and chanced to be in the 
house of Ellangowan as unexpectedly as you are now in mine, 
io upon that very night in which you were born. I little knew 
this circumstance when — but I trust unkindness will be for- 
gotten between us. Believe me, your appearance here, as 
Mr. Brown, alive and well, has relieved me from most painful 
sensations; and your right to the name of an old friend 
is renders your presence, as Mr. Bertram, doubly welcome.” 

“And my parents?” said Bertram. 

“Are both no more — and the family property has been 
sold, but I trust may be recovered. Whatever is wanted 
to make your right effectual, I shall be most happy to supply.” 
20 “Nay, you may leave all that to me,” said the counsellor ; 
“’tis my vocation, Hal, I shall make money of it.” 

“I’m sure it’s no for the like o’ me,” observed Dinmont, 
“to speak to you gentlefolk; but if siller would help on the 
Captain’s plea, and they say nae plea gangs on weel without 

25 it ” 

“Except on Saturday night,” said Pleydell. 

“Ay, but when your honor wadna take your fee ye wadna 
hae the cause neither, sae I’ll ne’er fash you on a Saturday at 
e’en again — but I was saying, there’s some siller in the 
30 spleuchan 1 that’s like the Captain’s ain, for we’ve aye counted 
it such, baith Ailie and me.” 

1 A spleuchan is a tobacco pouch, occasionally used as a 
purse. 


GUY MANNERING 


375 


“No, no, Liddesdale — no occasion, no occasion whatever — 
keep thy cash to stock thy farm.” 

“To stock my farm? Mr. Pleydell, your honor kens 
mony things, but ye dinna ken the farm o’ Charlies-hope — it’s 
sae weel stockit already, that we sell maybe sax hundreds 
pounds off it ilka year, flesh and fell thegither — na, na.” 

“Can’t you take another then?” 

“I dinna ken — the Deuke’s no that fond o’ led farms, and 
he canna bide to put away the auld tenantry; and then I 
wadna like, mysell, to gang about whistling 1 and raising the io 
rent on my neighbors.” 

“What, not upon thy neighbor at Dawston — Devilstone — 
how d’ye call the place?” 

“What, on Jock o’ Dawston? hout na — he’s a camsteary 2 
chield, and fasheous 3 about marches, and we’ve had some bits is 
o’ splores thegither ; but *deil o’ me if I wad wrang Jock o’ 
Dawston neither.” 

“Thou’rt an honest fellow,” said the lawyer; “get thee to 
bed. Thou wilt sleep sounder, I warrant thee, than many a 
man that throws off an embroidered coat, and puts on a laced 20 
night-cap. — Colonel, I see you are busy with our Enfant 
trouv$.° But Barnes must give me a summons of wakening at 
seven to-morrow morning, for my servant’s a sleepy-headed 
fellow; and I dare say my clerk, Driver, has had Clarence’s 
fate, 0 and is drowned by this time in a butt of your ale ; for 25 
Mrs. Allan promised to make him comfortable, and she’ll soon 
discover what he expects from that engagement. Good-night, 
Colonel — good-night, Dominie Sampson — good-night Din- 

1 Whistling, among the tenantry of a large estate, is, when 
an individual gives such information to the proprietor, or 
his managers, as to occasion the rent of his neighbor’s farm 
being raised, which for obvious reasons is held a very un- 
popular practice. 

2 Obstinate and unruly. 3 Troublesome. 


376 


GUY MANNERING 


mont the downright — good-night, last of all, to the new- 
found representative of the Bertrams, and the Mac-Dinga- 
waies, the Knarths, the Arths, the Godfreys, the Dennises, 
and the Rolands, and, last and dearest title, heir of tailzie 
5 and provision of the lands and barony of Ellangowan, under 
the settlement of Lewis Bertram, Esq., whose representative 
you are.” 

And so saying, the old gentleman took his candle and left 
the room ; and the company dispersed, after the Dominie had 
io once more hugged and embraced his “little Harry Bertram,” 
as he continued to call the young soldier of .six feet high. 


CHAPTER LI 


My imagination® 

Carries no favor in it but Bertram’s ; 

I am undone ; there is no living, none, 

If Bertram be away. 

All’s Well That Ends Well 

At the hour which he had appointed the preceding evening, 
the indefatigable lawyer was seated by a good fire, and a pair 
of wax candles, with a velvet cap on his head, and a quilted 
silk night-gown on his person, busy arranging his memoranda 
of proofs and indications concerning the murder of Frank 5 
Kennedy. An express had also been despatched to Mr. 
Mac-Morlan, requesting his attendance at Woodbourne as 
soon as possible, on business of importance. Dinmont, 
fatigued with the events of the evening before, and finding 
the accommodations of Woodbourne much preferable to 10 
those of Mac-Guffog, was in no hurry to rise. The im- 
patience of Bertram might have put him earlier in motion, 
but Colonel Mannering had intimated an intention to visit 
him in his apartment in the morning, and he did not choose 
to leave it. Before this interview he had dressed himself, 15 
Barnes having, by his master’s orders, supplied him with 
every accommodation of linen, etc., and now anxiously waited 
the promised visit of his landlord. 

. In a short time a gentle tap announced the Colonel, with 
whom Bertram held a long and satisfactory conversation. 2 o 
Each, however, concealed from the other one circumstance. 

377 


378 


GUY MANNERING 


Mannering could not bring himself to acknowledge the 
astrological prediction ; and Bertram was, from motives which 
may be easily conceived, silent respecting his love for Julia. 
In other respects, their intercourse was frank and grateful to 
5 both, and had latterly, upon the Colonel’s part, even an 
approach to cordiality. Bertram carefully measured his own 
conduct by that of his host, and seemed rather to receive his 
offered kindness with gratitude and pleasure, than to press for 
it with solicitation. 

i o Miss Bertram was in the breakfast parlor when Sampson 
shuffled in, his face all radiant with smiles; a circumstance 
so uncommon, that Lucy’s first idea was, that somebody had 
been bantering him with an imposition, which had thrown 
him into this ecstasy. Having sat for some time, rolling 
15 his eyes and gaping with his mouth like the great wooden 
head at Merlin’s exhibition, he at length began — “And what 
do you think of him, Miss Lucy ? ” 

“Think of whom, Mr. Sampson?” asked the young lady. 

“Of Har — no — of him that you know about?” again 
20 demanded the Dominie. 

“That I know about?” replied Lucy, totally at a loss to 
comprehend his meaning. 

“Yes, the stranger, you know, that came last evening 
in the post vehicle — he who shot young Hazlewood — ha, ha, 
25 ho!” burst forth the Dominie, with a laugh that sounded 
like neighing. 

“Indeed, Mr. Sampson,” said his pupil, “you have chosen 
a strange subject for mirth — I think nothing about the man, 
only I hope the outrage was accidental, and that we need not 
30 fear a repetition of it.” 

“Accidental! ho, ho, ha!” again whinnied Sampson. 

“Really, Mr. Sampson,” said Lucy, somewhat piqued, 
“you are unusually gay this morning.” 


GUY MANNERING 


379 


“Yes, of a surety I am! ha, ha, ho! face-ti-ous — ho, ho, 
ha!” 

“So unusually facetious, my dear sir,” pursued the young 
lady, “that I would wish rather to know the meaning of your 
mirth, than to be amused with its effects only.” 5 

“You shall know it, Miss Lucy,” replied poor Abel — “Do 
you remember your brother?” 

“Good God ! how can you ask me ? — no one knows better 
than you, he was lost the very day I was born.” 

“Very true, very true,” answered the Dominie, saddening io 
at the recollection ; “I was strangely oblivious — ay, ay — too 
true — But you remember your worthy father?” 

“How should you doubt it, Mr. Sampson? it is not so 
many weeks since ” 

“True, true — ay, too true,” replied the Dominie, his 15 
Houyhnhnm 0 laugh sinking into a hysterical giggle, — “I will 
be facetious no more under these remembrances — but look at 
that young man!” 

Bertram at this instant entered the room. “Yes, look at 
him well — he is your father’s living image; and as God has 20 
deprived you of your dear parents — O my children, love one 
another ! ” 

“It is indeed my father’s face and form,” said Lucy, turn- 
ing very pale ; Bertram ran to support her — the Dominie to 
fetch water to throw upon her face — (which in his haste he 25 
took from the boiling tea-urn) when fortunately her color 
returning rapidly, saved her from the application of this ill- 
judged remedy. “I conjure you to tell me, Mr. Sampson,” 
she said, in an interrupted, yet solemn voice, “is this my 
brother ? ” 30 

“It is — it is ! — Miss Lucy, it is little Harry Bertram, as 
sure as God’s sun is in that Heaven !” 

“And this is my sister?” said Bertram, giving way to all 


380 


GUY MANNERING 


that family affection, which had so long slumbered in his 
bosom for want of an object to expand itself upon. 

“It — it is ! — it is Miss Lucy Bertram,” ejaculated Samp- 
son, “whom by my poor aid you will find perfect in the 
S tongues of France, and Italy, and even of Spain — in reading 
and writing her vernacular tongue, and in arithmetic and 
book-keeping by double and single entry — I say nothing 
of her talents of shaping, and hemming, and governing a 
household, which, to give every one their due, she acquired 
io not from me, but from the housekeeper — nor do I take merit 
upon stringed instruments, whereunto the instructions of an 
honorable young lady of virtue and modesty, and very 
facetious withal — Miss Julia Mannering — hath not meanly 
contributed — Suum cuique tribuito.” 0 
15 “You, then,” said Bertram to his sister, “are all that 
remains to me ! — Last night, but more fully this morning, 
Colonel Mannering gave me an account of our family mis- 
fortunes, though without saying I should find my sister 
here.” 

20 “That,” said Lucy, “he left to this gentleman to tell you, 
one of the kindest and most faithful of friends, who soothed 
my father’s long sickness, witnessed his dying moments, and 
amid the heaviest clouds of fortune would not desert his 
orphan.” 

25 “God bless him for it!” said Bertram, shaking the 
Dominie’s hand, “he deserves the love with which I have 
always regarded even that dim and imperfect shadow of his 
memory which my childhood retained.” 

“And God bless you both, my dear children,” said Samp- 
30 son; “if it had not been for your sake, I would have been 
contented (had Heaven’s pleasure so been) to lay my head 
upon the turf beside my patron.” 

“But, I trust,” said Bertram, “I am encouraged to hope 


GUY M ANNE RING 


381 


we shall all see better days. All our wrongs shall be redressed, 
since Heaven has sent me means and friends to assert my 
right.” 

“Friends indeed!” echoed the Dominie, “and sent, as you 
truly say, by Him, to whom I early taught you to look up as 5 
the source of all that is good. There is the great Colonel 
Mannering from the Eastern Indies, a man of war from his 
birth upwards, but who is not the less a man of great eru- 
dition, considering his imperfect opportunities; and there is, 
moreover, the great advocate Mr. Pleydell, who is also a man 10 
of great erudition, but who descendeth to trifles unbeseeming 
thereof ; and there is Mr. Andrew Dinmont, whom I do not 
understand to have possession of much erudition, but who, 
like the patriarchs of old, is cunning in that which belongeth 
to flocks and herds — Lastly, there is even I myself, whose is 
opportunities of collecting erudition, as they have been 
greater than those of the aforesaid valuable persons, have 
not, if it becomes me to speak, been pretermitted by me, in 
so far as my poor faculties have enabled me to profit by them. 

Of a surety, little Harry, w r e must speedily resume our studies. 20 
I will begin from the foundation — Yes, I will reform your 
education upward from the true knowledge of English 
grammar, even to that of the Hebrew or Chaldaic tongue.” 

The reader may observe, that, upon this occasion, Sampson 
was infinitely more profuse of words than he had hitherto 25 
exhibited himself. The reasorr was, that in recovering his 
pupil his mind went instantly back to their original connection, 
and he had, in his confusion of ideas, the strongest desire in 
the world to resume spelling lessons and half-text with young 
Bertram. At present, however, this intimation fell upon 30 
heedless ears, for the brother and sister were too deeply en- 
gaged in asking and receiving intelligence concerning their 
former fortunes to attend much to the worthy Dominie. 


382 


GUY MANNERING 


When Colonel Mannering left Bertram, he went to Julia’s 
dressing-room, and dismissed her attendant. “My dear sir,” 
she said as he entered, “you have forgot our vigils last night, 
and have hardly allowed me time to comb my hair, although 
syou must be sensible how it stood on end at the various 
wonders which took place.” 

“It is with the inside of your head that I have some busi- 
ness at present, Julia ; I will return the outside to the care of 
your Mrs. Mincing in a few minutes.” 
io “Lord, papa,” replied Miss Mannering, “think how en- 
tangled all my ideas are, and you to propose to comb them 
out in a few minutes ! If Mincing were to do so in her 
department, she would tear half the hair out of my head.” 

“Well then, tell me,” said the Colonel, “where the entangle- 
15 ment lies, which I will try to extricate with due gentleness?” 

“Oh, everywhere,” said the young lady — “the whole is a 
wild dream.” 

“Well then, I 'will try to unriddle it.” — He gave a brief 
sketch of the fate and prospects of Bertram, to which Julia 
20 listened with an interest which she in vain endeavored to 
disguise — “Well,” concluded her father, “are your ideas on 
the subject more luminous?” 

“More confused than ever, my dear sir,” said Julia. — 
“Here is this young man come from India, after he had 
25 been supposed dead, like Aboulfouaris the great voyager to 
his sister Canzade and his provident brother Hour. I am 
wrong in the story, I believe — Canzade was his wife — but 
Lucy may represent the one, and the Dominie the other. 
And then this lively crack-brained Scotch lawyer appears like 
30 a pantomime at the end of a tragedy. — And then how de- 
lightful it will be if Lucy gets back her fortune!” 

“Now I think,” said the Colonel, “that the most mysterious 
part of the business is, that Miss Julia Mannering, who must 


GUY M ANNE RING 


383 


have known her father’s anxiety about the fate of this young 
man Brown, or Bertram, as we must now call him, should 
have met him when Hazlewood’s accident took place, and 
never once mentioned to her father a word of the matter, 
but suffered the search to proceed against this young gentle- 5 
man as a suspicious character and assassin.” 

Julia, much of whose courage had been hastily assumed 
to meet the interview with her father, was now unable to 
rally herself; she hung down her head in silence, after in 
vain attempting to utter a denial that she recollected Brown 10 
when she met him. 

“No answer! — well, Julia,” continued her father, gravely 
but kindly, “allow me to ask you, Is this the only time you 
have seen Brown since his return from India ? — Still no 
answer. I must then naturally suppose that it is not the first 1 5 
time — Still no reply. Julia Mannering, will you have the 
kindness to answer me? Was it this young man who came 
under your window and conversed with you during your 
residence at Mervyn Hall ? Julia — I command — I entreat 
you to be candid.” 20 

Miss Mannering raised her head. “I have been, sir — I 
believe I am still very foolish — and it is perhaps more hard 
upon me that I must meet this gentleman, who has been, 
though not the cause entirely, yet the accomplice of my folly, 
in your presence.” — Here she made a full stop. 25 

“I am to understand, then,” said Mannering, “that this 
was the author of the serenade at Mervyn Hall?” 

There was something in this allusive change of epithet, 
that gave Julia a little more courage — “He was indeed, sir ; 
and if I am very wrong, as I have often thought, I have some 30 
apology.” 

“And what is that?” answered the Colonel, speaking 
quick, and with something of harshness. 


384 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“I will not venture to name it, sir — but” — She opened a 
small cabinet, and put some letters into his hands; “I will 
give you these, that you may see how this intimacy began, 
and by whom it was encouraged.” 

5 Mannering took the packet to the window — his pride for- 
bade a more distant retreat — he glanced at some passages 
of the letters with an unsteady eye and an agitated mind — 
his stoicism, however, came in time to his aid ; that philos- 
ophy, which, rooted in pride, yet frequently bears the fruits 
io of virtue. He returned towards his daughter with as firm an 
air as his feelings permitted him to assume. 

“Ther^ is great apology for you, Julia, as far as I can judge 
from a glance at these letters — you have obeyed at least one 
parent. Let us adopt a Scotch proverb the Dominie quoted 
15 the other day — - ‘Let bygones be bygones, and fair play for the 
future.’ — I will never upbraid you with your past want of 
confidence — do you judge of my future intentions by my 
actions, of which hitherto you have surely had no reason to 
complain. Keep these letters — they were never intended for 
20 my eye, and I would not willingly read more of them than I 
have done, at your desire and for your exculpation. And 
now, are we friends ? Or rather, do you understand me ? ” 

“O my dear, generous father,” said Julia, throwing herself 
into his arms, “why have I ever for an instant misunderstood 
25 you?” 

“No more of that, Julia,” said the Colonel ; “we have both 
been to blame. He that is too proud to vindicate the affection 
and confidence which he conceives should be given without 
solicitation, must meet much, and perhaps deserved dis- 
30 appointment. It is enough that one dearest and most re- 
gretted member of my family has gone to the grave without 
knowing me; let me not lose the confidence of a child, who 
ought to love me if she really loves herself.” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


385 


“Oh ! no danger — no fear !” answered Julia; “let me but 
have your approbation and my own, and there is no rule you 
can prescribe so severe that I will not follow.” 

“Well, my love,” kissing her forehead, “I trust we shall 
not call upon you for anything too heroic. With respect to 5 
this young gentleman’s addresses, I expect in the first place 
that all clandestine correspondence — which no young woman 
can entertain for a moment without lessening herself in her 
own eyes, and in those of her lover — I request, I say, that 
clandestine correspondence of every kind may be given up, 10 
and that you will refer Mr. Bertram to me for the reason. 
You will naturally wish to know what is to be the issue of 
such a reference. In the first place, I desire to observe this 
young gentleman’s character more closely than circumstances, 
and perhaps my own prejudices, have permitted formerly — I 15 
should also be glad to see his birth established. Not that I 
am anxious about his getting the estate of Ellangowan, though 
such a subject is held in absolute indifference nowhere except 
in a novel ; but certainly Henry Bertram, heir of Ellangowan, 
whether possessed of the property of his ancestors or not, 20 
is a very different person from Vanbeest Brown, the son of 
nobody at all. His fathers, Mr. Pleydell tells me, are dis- 
tinguished in history as following the banners of their native 
princes, while our own fought at Cressy 0 and Poictiers. In 
short, I neither give nor withhold my approbation, but I 25 
expect you will redeem past errors; and as you can now 
unfortunately only have recourse to one parent, that you will 
sh 'W the duty of a child, by reposing that confidence in me, 
which I will say my inclination to make you happy renders a 
filial debt upon your part.” 30 

The first part of this speech affected Julia a good deal ; the 
comparative merit of the ancestors of the Bertrams and 
Mannerings excited a secret smile, but the conclusion was 
2c 


386 


GUY M ANNE RING 


such as to soften a heart peculiarly open to the feelings of 
generosity. “No, my dear sir,” she said, extending her hand, 
“receive my faith, that from this moment you shall be the 
first person consulted respecting what shall pass in future 
5 between Brown — I mean Bertram, and me ; and that no 
engagement shall be undertaken by me, excepting what you 
shall immediately know and approve of. May I ask — if Mr. 
Bertram is to continue a guest at Woodbourne?” 

“Certainly,” said the Colonel, “while his affairs render it 
io advisable.” 

“Then, sir, you must be sensible, considering what is 
already past, that he will expect some reason for my with- 
drawing — I believe I must say the encouragement, which he 
may think I have given.” 

is “I expect, Julia,” answered Mannering, “that he will 
respect my roof, and entertain some sense perhaps of the 
services I am desirous to render him, and so will not insist 
upon any course of conduct of which I might have reason to 
complain; aitd I expect of you, that you will make him 
20 sensible of what is due to both.” 

“Then, sir, I understand you, and you shall be implicitly 
obeyed.” 

“Thank you, my love; my anxiety (kissing her) is on your 
account. — Now wipe these witnesses from your eyes, and so 
25 to breakfast.” 


CHAPTER LI I 


And, Sheriff , I will engage my word to you,° 

That I will by to-morrow dinner time, 

Send him to answer thee, or any man, 

For anything he shall be charged withal. 

First Part of Henry IV. 

When the several by-plays, as they may be termed, had 
taken place among the individuals of the Woodbourne family, 
as we have intimated in the preceding chapter, the breakfast 
party at length assembled, Dandie excepted, who had con- 
sulted his taste in viands, and perhaps in society, by partaking 5 
of a cup of tea with Mrs. Allan, just laced with two tea- 
spoonfuls of Cogniac, and reinforced with various slices from 
a huge round of beef. He had a kind of feeling that he 
could eat twice as much, and speak twice as much, with this 
good dame and Barnes, as with the grand folk in the parlor. 10 
Indeed, the meal of this less distinguished party was much 
more mirthful than that in the higher circle, where there was 
an obvious air of constraint on the greater part of the assist- 
ants. Julia dared not raise her voice in asking Bertram if he 
chose another cup of tea. Bertram felt embarrassed while 15 
eating his toast and butter under the eye of Mannering. 
Lucy, while she indulged to the uttermost her affection for 
her recovered brother, began to think of the quarrel betwixt 
him and Hazlewood. The Colonel felt the painful anxiety 
natural to a proud mind, when it deems its slightest action 20 
subject for a moment to the watchful construction of others. 

387 


388 


GUY MANNERING 


The lawyer, while sedulously buttering his roll, had an aspect 
of unwonted gravity, arising, perhaps, from the severity of his 
morning studies. As for the Dominie, his state of mind was 
ecstatic ! — He looked at Bertram — he looked at Lucy — he 
5 whimpered — he sniggled — he grinned — he committed all 
manner of solecisms in point of form — poured the whole 
cream (no unlucky mistake) upon the plate of porridge, 
which was his own usual breakfast — threw the slops of what 
he called his ‘‘crowning dish of tea” into the sugar-dish 
io instead of the slop-basin, and concluded with spilling the 
scalding liquor upon old Plato, the Colonel’s favorite spaniel 
who received the libation with a howl that did little honor to 
his philosophy. 

The Colonel’s equanimity was rather shaken by this last 
15 blunder. “Upon my word, my good friend, Mr. Sampson, 
you forget the difference between Plato and Zenocrates.” 

“The former was chief of the Academics, the latter of 
the Stoics,” said the Dominie, with some scorn of the sup- 
position. 

20 “Yes, my dear sir, but it was Zenocrates, not Plato, who 
denied that pain was an evil.” 

“I should have thought,” said Pleydell, “that very respect- 
able quadruped, which is just now limping out of the room 
upon three of his four legs, was rather of the Cynic school.” 

25 “Very well hit off But here comes an answer from 

Mac-Morlan.” 

It was unfavorable. Mrs. Mac-Morlan sent her respectful 
compliments, and her husband had been, and was, detained, 
by some alarming disturbances which had taken place the pre- 
30 ceding night at Portanferry, and the necessary investigation 
which they had occasioned. 

“What’s to be done now, counsellor?” said the Colonel to 
Pleydell. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


389 


“Why, I wish we could have seen Mac-Morlan,” said the 
counsellor, “who is a sensible fellow himself, and would 
besides have acted under my advice. But there is little harm. 
Our friend here must be made sui juris 0 — he is at present an 
escaped prisoner ; the law has an awkward claim upon him ; 5 
he must be placed rectus in curia , 0 that is the first object. For 
which purpose, Colonel, I will accompany you in your carriage 
down to Hazlewood House. The distance is not great; we 
will offer our bail ; and I am confident I can easily show 
Mr. —— I beg his pardon — Sir Robert Hazlewood, the 10 
necessity of receiving it.” 

“With all my heart,” said the Colonel ; and, ringing the bell, 
gave the necessary orders. “And what is next to be done?” 

“We must get hold of Mac-Morlan, and look out for more 
proof.” 15 

“Proof!” said the Colonel, “the thing is as clear as day- 
light; here are Mr. Sampson and Miss Bertram, and you 
yourself, at once recognized the young gentleman as his 
father’s image ; and he himself recollects all the very peculiar 
circumstances preceding his leaving this country — What 20 
else is necessary to conviction?” 

“To moral conviction nothing more, perhaps,” said the 
experienced lawyer, “but for legal proof a great deal*. Mr. 
Bertram’s recollections are his own recollections merely, and 
therefore are not evidence in his own favor ; Miss Bertram, 25 
the learned Mr. Sampson, and I, can only say, what every one 
who knew the late Ellangowan will readily agree in, that this 
gentleman is his very picture — But that will not make him 
Ellangowan’s son, and give him the estate.” 

“And what will do so?” said the Colonel. 30 

“Why, we must have a distinct probation . 0 There are 
these gypsies, — but then, alas ! they are almost infamous 
in the eye of law — scarce capable of bearing evidence, and 


390 


GUY MANNERING 


Meg Merrilies utterly so, by the various accounts which she 
formerly gave of the matter, and her impudent denial of all 
knowledge of the fact when I myself examined her respect- 
ing it.” 

5 “What must be done then?” asked Mannering. 

“We must try,” answered the legal sage, “what proof can 
be got at in Holland, among the persons by whom our young 
friend was educated. — But then the fear of being called in 
question for the murder of the gauger may make them silent ; 
ioor if they speak, they are either foreigners, or outlawed 
smugglers. In short, I see doubts.” 

“Under favor, most learned and honored sir,” said the 
Dominie, “I trust He, who hath restored little Harry Bertram 
to his friends, will not leave His own work imperfect.” 
i_5 “I trust so too, Mr. Sampson,” said Pleydell; “but we 
must use the means; and I am afraid we shall have more 
difficulty in procuring them than I at first thought. But 
here comes your carriage, Colonel. Adieu, young folks : 
Miss Julia, keep your heart till I come back again — let there 
20 be nothing done to prejudice my right, whilst I am non 
vahns agere.” 

Their reception at Hazlewood House was more cold and 
formal than usual ; for in general the Baronet expressed great 
respect for Colonel Mannering, and Mr. Pleydell, besides 
25 being a man of good family and of high general estimation, 
was Sir Robert’s old friend. But now he seemed dry and 
embarrassed in his manner. “He would willingly,” he said, 
“receive bail, notwithstanding that the offence had been 
directly perpetrated, committed, and done, against young 
30 Hazlewood of Hazlewood ; but the young man had given 
himself a fictitious description, and was altogether that sort 
of person, who should not be liberated, discharged, or let 
loose upon society; and therefore ” 


GUY MANNERING 


391 


“I hope, Sir Robert Hazlewood,” said the Colonel, “you 
do not mean to doubt my word, when I assure you that he 
served under me as a cadet in India ? ” 

“By no means or account whatsoever. But you call him a 
cadet ; now he says, avers, and upholds, that he was a captain, 5 
or held a troop in your regiment.” 

“He was promoted since I gave up the command.” 

“But you must have heard of it?” 

“No. I returned on account of family circumstances from 
India, and have not since been solicitous to hear particular 10 
news from the regiment; the name of Brown, too, is so 
common, that I might have seen his promotion in the Gazette 
without noticing it. But a day or two will bring letters from 
his commanding officer.” 

“But I am told and informed, Mr. Pleydell,” answered Sir is 
Robert, still hesitating, “that he does not mean to abide by 
this name of Brown, but is to set up a claim to the estate of 
Ellangowan, under the name of Bertram.” 

“Ay, who says that?” said the counsellor. 

“Or,” demanded the soldier, “whoever says so, does that 20 
give a right to keep him in prison?” 

“Hush, Colonel,” said the lawyer; “I am sure you would 
not, any more than I, countenance him, if he prove an im- 
postor. — And, among friends, who informed you of this, 

Sir Robert?” 25 

“Why, a person, Mr. Pleydell,” answered the Baronet, 
“who is peculiarly interested in investigating, sifting, and 
clearing out this business to the bottom — you will excuse my 
being more particular.” 

“Oh, certainly,” replied Pleydell — “well, and he says ” 30 

“He says that it is whispered about among tinkers, gypsies, 
and other idle persons, that there is such a plan as I mentioned 
to you, and that this young man, who is a bastard or natural 


392 


GUY M ANNE RING 


son of the late Ellangowan, is pitched upon as the impostor, 
from his strong family likeness.” 

“And was there such a natural son, Sir Robert?” de- 
manded the counsellor. 

5 ‘ ‘ Oh, certainly, to my own positive knowledge. Ellangowan 

had him placed as cabin-boy or powder-monkey on board an 
armed sloop or yacht belonging to the revenue, through the 
interest of the late Commissioner Bertram, a kinsman of his 
own.” 

io “Well, Sir Robert,” said the lawyer, taking the word out of 
the mouth of the impatient soldier — “you have told me 
news ; I shall investigate them, and if I find them true, cer- 
tainiy Colonel Mannering and I will not countenance this 
young man. In the meanwhile, as we are all willing to make 
15 him forthcoming, to answer all complaints against him, I do 
assure you, you will act most illegally, and incur heavy 
responsibility, if you refuse our bail.” 

“Why, Mr. Pleydell,” said Sir Robert, who knew the high 
authority of the counsellor’s opinion, “as you must know best, 
20 and as you promise to give up this young man ” 

“If he proves an impostor,” replied the lawyer, with some 
emphasis. 

“Ay, certainly — under that condition I will take your bail ; 
though I must say, an obliging, well-disposed, and civil neigh- 
25 bor of mine, who was himself bred to the law, gave me a hint 
or caution this morning against doing so. It was from him I 
learned that this youth was liberated and had come abroad, or 
rather had broken prison. — But where shall we find one to 
draw the bail-bond?” 

30 “Here,” said the counsellor, applying himself to the bell, 
“send up my clerk, Mr. Driver — it will not do my character 
harm if I dictate the needful myself.” It was written accord- 
ingly and signed, and, the Justice having subscribed a regular 


GUY M ANNE RING 


393 


warrant for Bertram alias Brown’s discharge, the visitors took 
their leave. 

We return to the party at Woodbourne. After the de- 
parture of Mannering, the conversation related chiefly to the 
fortunes of the Ellangowan family, their domains, and their 5 
former power. “It was, then, under the towers of my fathers,’’ 
said Bertram, “that I landed some days since, in circumstances 
much resembling those of a vagabond? Its mouldering 
turrets and darksome arches even then awakened thoughts 
of the deepest interest, and recollections which I was unable to 10 
decipher. I will now visit them again with other feelings, 
and, I trust, other and better hopes.” 

“Do not go there now,” said the sister. “The house of 
our ancestors is at present the habitation of a wretch as 
insidious as dangerous, whose arts and villainy accomplished is 
the ruin and broke the heart of our unhappy father.” 

“You increase my anxiety,” replied her brother, “ to con- 
front this miscreant, even in the den he has constructed for 
himself — I think I have seen him.” 

“But you must consider,” said Julia, “that you are now left 20 
under Lucy’s guard and mine, and are responsible to us for all 
your motions — consider I have not been a lawyer’s mistress 
twelve hours for nothing, and I assure you it would be mad- 
ness to attempt to go to Ellangowan just now. — The utmost 
to which I can consent is, that we shall walk in a body to the 25 
head of Woodbourne avenue, ’and from that perhaps we 
may indulge you with our company as far as a rising ground 
in the common, whence vour eyes may be blessed with a distant 
prospect of those gloomy towers, which struck so strongly your 
sympathetic imagination.” 30 

The party was speedily agreed upon ; and the ladies, having 
taken their cloaks, followed the route proposed, under the 
escort of Captain Bertram. They reached at length the little 


394 


GUY MANNERING 


eminence or knoll upon the highest part of the common, called 
Gibbie’s-knowe — a spot repeatedly mentioned in this his- 
tory, as being on the skirts of the Ellangowan estate. It 
commanded a fair variety of hill and dale, bordered with 
5 natural woods, whose naked boughs at this season relieved 
the general color of the landscape with a dark purple hue; 
while in other places the prospect was more formally inter- 
sected by lines of plantation, where the Scotch firs displayed 
their variety of dusky green. At the distance of two or three 
io miles lay the bay of Ellangowan, its waves rippling under the 
influence of the western breeze. The towers of the ruined 
castle, seen high over every object in the neighborhood, 
received a brighter coloring from the wintry sun. 

“There,” said Lucy Bertram, pointing them out in the 
is distance, “there is the seat of our ancestors. God knows, my 
dear brother, I do not covet in your behalf the extensive 
power which the lords of these ruins are said to have possessed 
so long, and sometimes to have used so ill. But, oh that I 
might see you in possession of such relics of their fortune as 
20 should give you an honorable independence, and enable you 
to stretch your hand for the protection of the old and des- 
titute dependants of our family, whom our poor father’s 
death ” 

“True, my dearest Lucy,” answered the young heir of 
..s* Ellangowan; “and I trust, with the assistance of Heaven, 
which has so far guided us, arid with that of these good friends, 
whom their own generous hearts have interested in my behalf, 
such a consummation of my hard adventures is now not un- 
likely. — But as a soldier, I must look with some interest upon 
30 that worm-eaten hold of ragged stone ; and if this under- 
mining scoundrel, who is now in possession, dare to displace 
a pebble of it ” 

He was here interrupted by Dinmont, who came hastily 


GUY M ANNE RING 


395 


after them up the road, unseen till he was near the party : — 
“Captain, Captain! ye’re wanted — Ye’re wanted by her ye 
ken o’.” 

And immediately Meg Merrilies, as if emerging out of the 
earth, ascended from the hollow way, and stood before them. 5 
“I sought ye at the house,” she said, “and found but him 
(pointing to Dinmont), but ye are right, and I was wrang. It 
is here we should meet, on this very spot, where my eyes last 
saw your father. Remember your promise, and follow me.” 


CHAPTER LIII 


To hail the king in seemly sort 
The ladie was full fain ; 

But King Arthur, all sore amazed, 

No answer made again. 

“What wight art thou,” the ladie said, 

“That will not speak to me? 

Sir, I may chance to ease thy pain, 

Though I be foul to see.” 

The Marriage of Sir Gawaine. 0 

The fairy bride of Sir Gawaine, while under the influence of 
the spell of her wicked stepmother, was more decrepit prob- 
ably, and what is commonly called more ugly, than Meg 
Merrilies ; but I doubt if she possessed that wild sublimity 
5 which an excited imagination communicated to features, 
marked and expressive in their own peculiar character, and 
to the gestures of a form, which, her sex considered, might be 
termed gigantic. Accordingly, the Knights of the Round 
Table did not recoil with more terror from the apparition 
io of the loathly lady placed between “an oak and a green 
holly,” than Lucy Bertram and Julia Mannering did from 
the appearance of this Galwegian sibyl upon the common of 
Ellangowan. 

“For God’s sake,” said Julia, pulling out her purse, “give 
is that dreadful woman something, and bid her go away.” 

“I cannot,” said Bertram; “I must not offend her.” 

“What keeps you here?” said Meg, exalting the harsh and 
rough tones of her hollow voice; “Why do you not follow? — 
396 


GUY M ANNE RING 


397 


Must your hour call you twice ? — Do you remember your 
oath ? — were it at kirk or market, wedding or burial,” — and 
she held high her skinny forefinger in a menacing attitude. 

Bertram turned round to his terrified companions. “Ex- 
cuse me for a moment ; I am engaged by a promise to follow 5 
this woman. Wait for me five minutes on this spot.” 

“Five minutes?” said the gypsy; “five hours may not 
bring you here again.” 

“Do you hear that?” said Julia; “for Heaven’s sake do 
not go !” 10 

“I must, I must — Mr. Dinmont will protect you back to 
the house.” 

“No,” said Meg, “he must come with you; it is for that 
he is here. He maun take part wi’ hand and heart ; and weel 
his part it is, for redding his quarrel might have cost you dear.” is 

“Troth, Luckie, it’s very true,” said the steady farmer; 
“and ere I turn back frae the Captain’s side, I’ll show that I 
haena forgotten’t.” 

“Oh yes!” exclaimed both the ladies at once, “let Mr. 
Dinmont go with you, if go you must, on this strange 20 
summons.” 

“Indeed I must,” answered Bertram, “but you see I am 
safely guarded — Adieu for a short time ; go home as fast as 
you can.” 

He pressed his sister’s hand, and took a yet more affectionate 25 
farewell of Julia with his eyes. Almost stupefied with sur- 
prise and fear, the young ladies watched with anxious looks 
the course of Bertram, his companion, and their extraordi- 
nary guide. Her tall figure moved across the wintry heath 
with steps so swift, so long, and so steady, that she appeared 30 
rather to glide than to walk. Bertram and Dinmont, both 
tall men, apparently scarce equalled her in height, owing to 
her long dress and high head-gear. She proceeded straight 


398 


GUY MANNERING 


across the common, without turning aside to the winding path, 
by which passengers avoided the inequalities and little rills 
that traversed it in different directions. Thus the diminish- 
ing figures often disappeared from the eye, as they dived into 
5 such broken ground, and again ascended to sight when they 
were past the hollow. There was something frightful and 
unearthly, as it were, in the rapid and undeviating course 
which she pursued, undeterred by any of the impediments 
which usually incline a traveller from the direct path. Her 
10 way was as straight, and nearly as swift, as that of a bird 
through the air. At length they reached those thickets of 
natural wood which extended from the skirts of the common 
towards the glades and brook of Derncleugh, and were there 
lost to the view. 

is Leaning then upon each other’s arm, but yet occasionally 
stumbling, between fear and the disorder of their nerves, the 
ladies had reached the head of the avenue, when they heard 
the tread of a horse behind. They started, for their ears 
were awake to every sound, and beheld to their great pleasure 
20 young Hazlewood. “The Colonel will be here immediately,” 
he said; “I galloped on before to pay my respects to Miss 
Bertram, with the sincerest congratulations upon the joyful 
event which has taken place in her family. I long to be 
introduced to Captain Bertram, and to thank him for the 
2 5 well-deserved lesson he gave to my rashness and indiscretion.” 

“He has left us just now,” said Lucy, “and in a manner 
that has frightened us very much.” 

Just at that moment the Colonel’s carriage drove up, and, 
on observing the ladies, stopped, while Mannering and his 
scCearned counsel alighted and joined them. They instantly 
communicated the new cause of alarm. 

“Meg Merrilies again!” said the Colonel; “she certainly 
is a most mysterious and unaccountable personage; but I 


GUY M ANNE RING 


399 


think she must have something to impart to Bertram, to which 
she does not mean we should be privy.” 

“The devil take the bedlamite old woman,” said the coun- 
sellor; “will she not let things take their course, prout de lege, 
but must always be putting in her oar in her own way ? — 5 
Then I fear from the direction they took they are going upon 
the Ellangowan estate — that rascal Glossin has shown us 
what ruffians he has at his disposal. I wish honest Liddesdale 
may be guard sufficient.” 

“If you please,” said Hazlewood, “I should be most happy 10 
to ride in the direction which they have taken. I am so well 
known in the country, that I scarce think any outrage will be 
offered in my presence, and I shall keep at such a cautious 
distance as not to appear to watch Meg, or interrupt any com- 
munication which she may make.” 15 

Hazlewood turned his horse. “Come back to us to dinner, 
Hazlewood,” cried the Colonel. He bowed, spurred his 
horse, and galloped off. 

We now return to Bertram and Dinmont, who continued to 
follow their mysterious guide through the woods and dingles, 20 
between the open common and the ruined hamlet of Dern- 
cleugh. As she led the way, she never looked back upon 
her followers, unless to chide them for loitering, though the 
sweat, in spite of the season, poured from their brows. At 
other times she spoke to herself in such broken expressions 25 
as these : ; — “It is to rebuild the auld house — it is to lay the 
corner stone — and did I not warn him ? — I tell’d him I was 
born to do it, if my father’s head had been the stepping-stane, 
let alane his. I was doomed — still I kept my purpose in the 
cage and in the stocks ; — I was banished — I kept it in an 30 
unco land ; — I was scourged — I was branded — My 
resolution lay deeper than scourge or red iron could reach 
— and now the hour is come.” 


400 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“Captain,” said Dinmont, in a half whisper, “I wish she 
binna uncanny ! her words dinna seem to come in God’s 
name, or like other folk’s. Odd, they threep in our country 
that there are sic things.” 

5 “Don’t be afraid, my friend,” whispered Bertram in return. 

“Fear’d! fient a haet care I,” said the dauntless farmer, 
“be she witch or deevil ; it’s a’ ane to Dandie Dinmont.” 

“Haud your peace, gudeman,” said Meg, looking sternly 
over her shoulder; “is this a time or place for you to speak, 
io think ye?” 

“But, my good friend,” said Bertram, “as I have no doubt 
in your good faith, or kindness, which I have experienced; 
you should in return have some confidence in me — I wish 
to know where you are leading us.” 

15 “There’s but ae answer to that, Henry Bertram,” said the 
sibyl. — “I swore my tongue should never tell, but I never 
said my finger should never show. Go on and meet your 
fortune, or turn back and lose it — that’s a’ I hae to say.” 

“Go on then,” answered Bertram; “I will ask no more 
20 questions.” 

They descended into the glen about the same place where 
Meg had formerly parted from Bertram. She paused an 
instant beneath the tall rock where he had witnessed the 
burial of a dead body, and stamped upon the ground, which, 
25 notwithstanding all the care that had been taken, showed 
vestiges of having been recently moved. “Here rests ane,” 
she said; “he’ll maybe hae neibors sune.” 

She then moved up the brook until she came to the ruined 
hamlet, where, pausing with a look of peculiar and softened 
30 interest before one of the gables which was still standing, she 
said in a tone less abrupt, though as solemn as before, “Do 
you see that blackit and broken end of a shealing ? — there 
my kettle boiled for forty years — there I bore twelve buirdly 


GUY M ANNE RING 


401 


sons and daughters — where are they now ? — where are 
the leaves that were on that auld ash-tree at Martinmas ! — 
the west wind has made it bare — and I’m stripped too. — Do 
you see that saugh-tree ? — it’s but a blackened rotten stump 
now — I’ve sate under it mony a bonnie summer afternoon, 5 
when it hung its gay garlands ower the poppling water. — 
I’ve sat there, and,” elevating her voice, “I’ve held you on 
my knee, Henry Bertram, and sung ye sangs of the auld 
barons and their bloody wars — It will ne’er be green again, 
and Meg Merrilies will never sing sangs mair, be they blithe 10 
or sad. But ye’ll no forget her, and ye’ll gar big up the auld 
wa’s for her sake ? — and let somebody live there that’s ower 
gude to fear them of another warld — For if ever the dead 
came back amang the living, I’ll be seen in this glen mony a 
night after these crazed banes are in the mould.” 15 

The mixture of insanity and wild pathos with which she 
spoke these last words, with her right arm bare and extended, 
her left bent and shrouded beneath the dark red drapery of 
her mantle, might have been a study worthy of our Siddons 
herself. “And now,” she said, resuming at once the short, 20 
stern, and hasty tone which was most ordinary to her — “let 
us to the wark — let us to the wark.” 

She then led the way to the promontory on which the Kaim 
of Derncleugh was situated, produced a large key from her 
pocket, and unlocked the door. The interior of this place 25 
was in better order than formerly. “I have made things 
decent,” she said ; “I may be streekit here or night. — There 
will be few, few at Meg’s lykewake, for mony of our folk will 
blame what I hae done, and am to do !” 

She then pointed to a table, upon which was some cold 30 
meat, arranged with more attention to neatness than could 
have been expected from Meg’s habits. “Eat,” she said, 
“eat; ye’ll need it this night yet.” 


402 


GUY MANNERING 


Bertram, in complaisance, ate a morsel or two; and Din- 
mont, whose appetite was unabated either by wonder, appre- 
hension, or the meal of the morning, made his usual figure 
as a trencher-man. She then offered each a single glass of 
S spirits, which Bertram drank diluted, and his companion 
plain. 

“Will ye taste naething yoursell, Luckie?” said Dinmont. 

“I shall not need it,” replied their mysterious hostess. 
“And now,” she said, “ye maun hae arms — ye maunna gang 
io on dry-handed — but use them not rashly — take captive, but 
save life — let the law hae its ain — he maun speak ere he 
die.” 

“Who is to be taken? — who is to speak?” said Bertram in 
astonishment, receiving a pair of pistols which she offered him, 
IS and which, upon examination, he found loaded and locked. 

“The flints are gude,” she said, “and the powder dry — I 
ken this wark week” 

Then, without answering his questions, she armed Dinmont 
also with a large pistol, and desired them to choose sticks 
20 for themselves out of a parcel of very suspicious-looking 
bludgeons, which she brought from a corner. Bertram took 
a stout sapling, and Dandie selected a club which might have 
served Hercules himself. They then left the hut together, 
and, in doing so, Bertram took an opportunity to whisper to 
25 Dinmont, “There’s something inexplicable in all this — But 
we need not use these arms unless we see necessity and law- 
ful occasion — take care to do as you see me do.” 

Dinmont gave a sagacious nod; and they continued to 
follow, over wet and over dry, through bog and through 
30 fallow, the footsteps of their conductress. She guided them 
to the wood of Warroch by the same track which the late 
Ellangowan had used when riding to Derncleugh in quest of 
his child, on the miserable evening of Kennedy’s murder. 


GUY MANNERING 


403 


When Meg Merrilies had attained these groves, through 
which the wintry sea-wind was now whistling hoarse and 
shrill, she seemed to pause a moment as if to recollect the 
way. “We maun go the precise track,” she said, and con- 
tinued to go forward, but rather in a zigzag and involved 5 
course than according to her former steady and direct line 
of motion. At length she guided them through the mazes 
of the wood to a little open glade of about a quarter of an 
acre, surrounded by trees and bushes, which made a wild 
and irregular boundary. Even in winter it was a sheltered 10 
and snugly sequestered spot ; but when arrayed in the verdure 
of spring, the earth sending forth all its wild flowers, the 
shrubs spreading their waste of blossom around it, and the 
weeping birches, which towered over the underwood, drooping 
their long and leafy fibres to intercept the sun, it must have rs 
seemed a place for a youthful poet to study his earliest sonnet, 
or a pair of lovers to exchange their first mutual avowal of 
affection. Apparently it now awakened very different recol- 
lections. Bertram’s brow, when he had looked round the 
spot, became gloomy and embarrassed. Meg, after uttering to 20 
herself, “This is the very spot !” looked at him with a ghastly 
side-glance, — “D’ye mind it?” 

“Yes!” answered Bertram, “imperfectly I do.” 

“Ay!” pursued his guide, “on this very spot the man fell 
from his horse — I was behind that bourtree-bush at the very 25 
moment. Sair, sair he strove, and sair he cried for mercy — - 
but he was in the hands of them that never kenn’d the word ! 

— Now will I show you the further track — the last time ye 
travelled it was in these arms.” 

She led them accordingly by a long and winding passage 30 
almost overgrown with brushwood, until, without any very 
perceptible descent, they suddenly found themselves by the 
seaside. Meg then walked very fast on between the surf 


404 


GUY MANNERING 


and the rocks, until she came to a remarkable fragment of 
rock detached from the rest. “Here,” she said in a low and 
scarcely audible whisper, “here the corpse was found.” 

“And the cave,” said Bertram, in the same tone, “is close 
5 beside it — are you guiding us there?” 

“Yes,” said the gypsy in a decided tone. “Bend up both 
your hearts — follow me as I creep in — I have placed the fire- 
wood so as to screen you. Bide behind it for a gliff till I say, 
The hour and the man are baith come; then rin in on him, 
io take his arms, and bind him till the blood burst frae his 
finger nails.” 

“I will, by my soul,” said Henry — “if he is the man I 
suppose — Jansen ? ” 

“Ay, Jansen, Hatteraick, and twenty mair names are his.” 
15 “Dinmont, you must stand by me now,” said Bertram, 
“for this fellow is a devil.” 

“Ye needna doubt that,” said the stout yeoman — “but I 
wish I could mind a bit prayer or I creep after the witch into 
that hole that she’s opening — It wad be a sair thing to leave 
20 the blessed sun, and the free air, and gang and be killed, like 
a tod that’s run to earth, in a dungeon like that. But, my 
sooth, they will be hard-bitten terriers will worry Dandie ; so, 
as I said, deil hae me if I baulk you.” This was uttered in 
the lowest tone of voice possible. The entrance was now 
25 open. Meg crept in upon her hands and knees, Bertram 
followed, and Dinmont, after giving a rueful glance toward the 
daylight, whose blessings he was abandoning, brought up 
the rear. 


CHAPTER LIV 


Die, prophet ! in thy speech ;° 

For this, among the rest, was I ordained. 

Henry VI. Part III. 

The progress of the Borderer, who, as we have said, was 
the last of the party, was fearfully arrested by a hand, 
which caught hold of his leg as he dragged his long limbs 
after him in silence and perturbation through the low and 
narrow entrance of the subterranean passage. The steel 5 
heart of the bold yeoman had well-nigh given way, and he 
suppressed with difficulty a shout, which, in the defence- 
less posture and situation which they then occupied, might 
have cost all their lives. He contented himself, however, 
with extricating his foot from the grasp of this unexpected 10 
follower. “Be still,” said a voice behind him, releasing him; 

“I am a friend — Charles Hazlewood.” 

These words were uttered in a very low voice, but they 
produced sound enough to startle Meg Merrilies, who led the 
van, and who, having already gained the place where the 15 
cavern expanded, had risen upon her feet. She began, as if 
to confound any listening ear, to growl, to mutter, and to sing 
aloud, and at the same time to make a bustle among some 
brushwood which was now heaped in the cave. 

“Here — beldam — Deyvil’s kind,” growled the harsh 20 
voice of Dirk Hatteraick from the inside of his den, “what 
makest thou there?” 

“Laying the rougliies 1 to keep the cauld wind frae you, ye 
1 Withered boughs. 

405 


406 


GUY M ANNE RING 


desperate do-nae-good — Ye’re e’en ower weel off, and wots 
na; it will be otherwise soon.” 

“Have you brought me the brandy, and any news of my 
people?” said Dirk Hatteraick. 

5 “There’s the flask for ye. Your people — dispersed — 
broken — gone — or cut to ribbands by the red-coats.” 

“Der Deyvil ! — this coast is fatal to me.” 

“Ye may hae mair reason to say sae.” 

While this dialogue went forward, Bertram and Dinmont 
iohad both gained the interior of the cave, and assumed an 
erect position. The only light which illuminated its rugged 
and sable precincts was a quantity of wood burnt to charcoal 
in an iron grate, such as they use in spearing salmon by night. 
On these red embers Hatteraick from time to time threw a 
15 handful of twigs or splintered wood; but these, even when 
they blazed up, afforded a light much disproportioned to the 
extent of the cavern ; and, as its principal inhabitant lay upon 
the side of the grate most remote from the entrance, it was 
not easy for him to discover distinctly objects which lay in 
20 that direction. The intruders, therefore, whose number was 
now augmented unexpectedly to three, stood behind the 
loosely-piled branches with little risk of discovery. Dinmont 
had the sense to keep back Hazlewood with one hand till he 
whispered to Bertram, “A friend — young Hazlewood.” 

25 It was no time for following up the introduction, and they 
all stood as still as the rocks around them, obscured behind 
the pile of brushwood, which had been probably placed there 
to break the cold wind from the sea, without totally inter- 
cepting the supply of air. 

30 The scene, independent of the peculiar moral interest and 
personal danger which attended it, had, from thp effect of the 
light and shade on the uncommon objects which it exh : bited, 
an appearance emphatically dismal. The light in the fire- 


GUY M ANNE RING 


407 


grate was the dark-red glare of charcoal in a state of ignition, 
relieved from time to time by a transient flame of a more 
vivid or duskier light, as the fuel with which Dirk Hatteraick 
fed his fire was better or worse fitted for his purpose. 

Bertram felt his blood boil at the sight of Hatteraick. He 5 
remembered him well under the name of Jansen, which the 
smuggler had adopted after the death of Kennedy; and he 
remembered also, that this Jansen, and his mate Brown, the 
same who was shot at Woodbourne, had been the brutal 
tyrants of his infancy. Bertram knew further, from piecing 10 
his own imperfect recollections with the narratives of Manner- 
ing and Pleydell, that this man was the prime agent in the act 
of violence which tore him from his family and country, and 
had exposed him to so many distresses and dangers. A 
thousand exasperating reflections rose within his bosom ; and 1 5 
he could hardly refrain from rushing upon Hatteraick and 
blowing his brains out. 

At the same time this would have been no safe adventure. 
The flame, as it rose and fell, while it displayed the strong, 
muscular, and broad-chested frame of the ruffian, glanced also 20 
upon two brace of pistols in his belt, and upon the hilt of his 
cutlass : it was not to be doubted that his desperation was 
commensurate with his personal strength and means of re- 
sistance. Both, indeed, were inadequate to encounter the 
combined power of two such men as Bertram himself and his 25 
friend Dinmont, without reckoning their unexpected assistant 
Hazlewood, who was unarmed, and of a slighter make; but 
Bertram felt, on a moment’s reflection, that there would be 
neither sense nor valor in anticipating the hangman’s office, 
and he considered the importance of making Hatteraick 30 
prisoner alive. He therefore repressed his indignation, and 
awaited what should pass between the ruffian and his gypsy 
guide. 


408 


GUY MANNERING 


“And how are ye now?” said the harsh and discordant 
tones of his female attendant : “Said I not it would come 
upon you — ay, and in this very cave, where ye harbored 
after the deed?” 

5 “Wetter and sturm, ye hag!” replied Hatteraick, “keep 
your deyvil’s matins till they’re wanted. Have you seen 
Glossin ? ” 

“No,” replied Meg Merrilies : “you’ve missed your blow, ye 
blood-spiller ! and ye have nothing to expect from the 
10 tempter.” 

“Hagel 1 ” exclaimed the ruffian, “if I had him but by the 
throat ! — and what am I to do then ? ” 

“Do?” answered the gypsy; “die like a man, or be hanged 
like a dog ! ” 

15 “Hanged, ye hag of Satan! — the hemp’s not sown that 
shall hang me.” 

“It’s sown, and it’s grown, and it’s heckled, and it’s twisted. 
Did I not tell ye, when ye wad take away the boy Harry 
Bertram, in spite of nly prayers, — did I not say he would 
20 come back when he had dree’d his weird in foreign land till 
his twenty-first year ? — Did I not say the auld fire would burn 
down to a spark, but wad kindle again ? ” 

“Well, mother, you did say so,” said Hatteraick, in a tone 
that had something of despair in its accents; “and, donner 
25 and blitzen ! I believe you spoke the truth — that younker of 
Ellangowan has been a rock ahead to me all my life! and 
now, with Glossin’s cursed contrivance, my crew have been 
cut off, my boats destroyed, and I dare say the lugger’s taken 
— there were not men enough left on board to work her, far 
30 less to fight her — a dredge-boat might have taken her. And 
what will the owners say ? — Hagel and sturm ! I shall never 
dare go back again to Flushing.” 

“You’ll never need,” said the gypsy. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


409 


“What are you doing there,” said her companion, “and 
what makes you say that ? ” 

During this dialogue, Meg was heaping some flax loosely 
together. Before answer to this question, she dropped a fire- 
brand upon the flax, which had been previously steeped in 5 
some spirituous liquor, for it instantly caught fire, and rose in 
a vivid pyramid of the most brilliant light up to the very top 
of the vault. As it ascended, Meg answered the ruffian’s 
question in a firm and steady voice: — “ Because the Hour's 
come , and the Man.” 10 

At the appointed signal, Bertram and Dinmont sprung over 
the brushwood, and rushed upon Hatteraick. Hazlewood, 
unacquainted with their plan of assault, was a moment later. 
The ruffian, who instantly saw he was betrayed, turned his 
first vengeance on Meg Merrilies, at whom he discharged a is 
pistol. She fell, with a piercing and dreadful cry, between 
the shriek of pain and the sound of laughter, when at its 
highest and most suffocating height. “I kenn’d it would be 
this way,” she said. 

Bertram, in his haste, slipped his foot upon the uneven rock 20 
which floored the cave ; a fortunate stumble, for Hatteraick’s 
second bullet whistled over him with so true and steady an 
aim, that had he been standing upright, it must have lodged in 
his brain. Ere the smuggler could draw another pistol, 
Dinmont closed with him, and endeavored by main force to 25 
pinion down his arms. Such, however, was the wretch’s 
personal strength, joined to the efforts of his despair, that, in 
spite of the gigantic force with which the Borderer grappled 
him, he dragged Dinmont through the blazing flax, and had 
almost succeeded in drawing a third pistol, which might have 30 
proved fatal to the honest farmer, had not Bertram, as -well as 
Hazlewood, come to his assistance, when, by main force, and 
no ordinary exertion of it, they threw Hatteraick on the 


410 


GUY MANNERING 


ground, disarmed him, and bound him. This scuffle, though 
it takes up some time in the narrative, passed in less than a 
single minute. When he was fairly mastered, after one or two 
desperate and almost convulsionary struggles, the ruffian lay 
5 perfectly still and silent. “He’s gaun to die game ony how,” 
said Dinmont; “weel, I like him na the waur for that.” 

“He is quiet now,” said Bertram; “stay by him, and do 
not permit him to stir till I see whether the poor woman be 
alive or dead.” With Hazlewood’s assistance he raised Meg 
io Merrilies. 

“I kenn’d it would be this way,” she muttered, “and it’s 
e’en this way that it should be.” 

The ball had penetrated the breast below the throat. It did 
not bleed much externally; but Bertram, accustomed to see 
15 gun-shot wounds, thought it the more alarming. “Good 
God! what shall we do for this poor woman?” said he to 
Hazlewood, the circumstances superseding the necessity of 
previous explanation or introduction to each other. 

“My horse stands tied above in the wood,” said Hazle- 
20 wood. “I have been watching you these two hours — I 
will ride off for some assistants that may be trusted. Mean- 
while, you had better defend the mouth of the cavern against 
every one until I return.” He hastened away. Bertram, 
after binding Meg Merrilies’ s wound as well as he could, took 
25 station near the mouth of the cave with a cocked pistol in 
his hand ; Dinmont continued to watch Hatteraick, keeping 
a grasp, like that of Hercules, on his breast. There was a 
dead silence in the cavern, only interrupted by the low and 
suppressed moaning of the wounded female, and by the hard 
3 ° breathing of the prisoner. 


CHAPTER LV 


For though, seduced and led astray , 0 
Thou’st travell’d far and wander’d long, 

Thy God hath seen thee all the way, 

And all the turns that led thee wrong. 

The Hall of Justice. 

After the space of about three-quarters of an hour, which 
the uncertainty and danger of their situation made seem al- 
most thrice as long, the voice of young Hazlewood was heard 
without. “Here I am,” he cried, “with a sufficient party.” 

“Come in then,” answered Bertram, not a little pleased to 5 
find his guard relieved. Hazlewood then entered, followed by 
two or three countrymen, one of whom acted as a peace- 
officer. They lifted Hatteraick up, and carried him in their 
arms as far as the entrance of the vault was high enough to 
permit them ; then laid him on his back, and dragged him io 
along as well as they could, for no persuasion would induce 
him to assist the transportation by any exertion of his own. 
He lay silent and inactive in their hands as a dead corpse, 
incapable of opposing, but in no way aiding, their operations. 

When Meg Merrilies had also been removed from the 15 
cavern, with all the care for her safety that circumstances 
admitted, they consulted where she should be carried. Hazle- 
wood had sent fcr a surgeon, and proposed that she should be 
lifted in the meantime to the nearest cottage. But the patient 
exclaimed with great earnestness, “Na, na, na ! To the Kaim 20 
o’ Derncleugh — the Kaim o’ Derncleugh — the spirit will 
not free itself o’ the flesh but there.” 

411 


412 


GUY M ANNE RING 


“You must indulge her, I believe,” said Bertram; “her 
troubled imagination will otherwise aggravate the fever of the 
wound.” 

They bore her accordingly to the vault. On the way her 
5 mind seemed to run more upon the scene which had just 
passed, than on her own approaching death. “There were 
three of them set upon him — I brought the twasome — but 
wha was the third ? — It would be himsell, 0 returned to work 
his ain vengeance!” 

io It was evident that the unexpected appearance of Hazle- 
wood, whose person the outrage of Hatteraick left her no time 
to recognize, had produced a strong effect on her imagination. 
She often recurred to it. Hazlewood accounted for his un- 
expected arrival to Bertram, by saying, that he had kept them 
is in view for some time by the direction of Mannering; that, 
observing them disappear into the cave, he had crept after 
them, meaning to announce himself and his errand, when his 
hand in the darkness encountering the leg of Dinmont, had 
nearly produced a catastrophe, which, indeed, nothing but the 
20 presence of mind and fortitude of the bold yeoman could have 
averted. 

When the gypsy arrived at the hut, she produced the key ; 
and when they entered, and were about to deposit her upon 
the bed, she said, in an anxious tone, “Na, na! not that 
2s way, the feet to the east” ; and appeared gratified when they 
reversed her posture accordingly, and placed her in that 
appropriate to a dead body. 

“Is there no clergyman near,” said Bertram, “to assist this 
unhappy woman’s devotion's?” 

30 A gentleman, the minister of the parish, who had been 
Charles Hazlewood’s tutor, had, with many others, caught the 
alarm, that the murderer of Kennedy was taken on the spot 
where the deed had been done so many years before, and 


GUY M ANNE RING 


413 


that a woman was mortally wounded. From curiosity, or 
rather from the feeling that his duty called him to scenes of 
distress, this gentleman had come to the Kaim of Derncleugh, 
and now presented himself. The surgeon arrived at the same 
time, and was about to probe the wound ; but Meg resisted 5 
the assistance of either. “It’s no what man can do, that will 
heal my body, or save my spirit. Let me speak what I have 
to say, and then ye may work your will; Fse be nae hinder- 
ance. — But -where’s Henry Bertram?” — the assistants, to 
whom this name had been long a stranger, gazed upon each 10 
other. — • “Yes !” she said, in a stronger and harsher tone, “I 
said Henry Bertram of Ellangowan. Stand from the light and 
let me see him.” 

All eyes were turned towards Bertram, who approached the 
wretched couch. The wounded woman took hold of his hand, is 
“Look at him,” she said, “all that ever saw his father or his 
grandfather, and bear witness if he is not their living image ?” 

A murmur went through the crowd — the resemblance was too 
striking to be denied. “And now hear me — and let that 
man,” pointing to Hatteraick, who was seated with his keepers 20 
on a sea-chest at some distance — “let him deny what I say, 
if he can. That is Henry Bertram, son of Godfrey Bertram, 
umquhile of Ellangowan; that young man is the very lad- 
bairn that Dirk Hatteraick carried off from Warroch Wood 
the day that he murdered the gauger. I was there like a 25 
wandering spirit — for I longed to see that wood or we left 
the country. I saved the bairn’s life, and sair, sair I prigged 
and prayed they would leave him wi’ me — But they bore 
him away, and he’s been lang ower the sea, and now he’s 
come for his ain, and what should withstand him ? — I 30 
swore to keep the secret till he was ane-an ’-twenty — I kenn’d 
he behoved to dree his weird till that day cam — I keepit 
that oath which I took to them — but I made another vow 


414 


GUY M ANNE RING 


to mysell, that if I lived to see the day of his return, I would 
set him in his father’s seat, if every step was on a dead man. 
I have keepit that oath too, I will be ae step mysell — He 
(pointing to Hatteraick) will soon be another, and there will 
5 be ane mair yet.” 

The clergyman, now interposing, remarked it was a pity 
this deposition was not regularly taken and written down, 
and the surgeon urged the necessity of examining the wound, 
previously to exhausting her by questions. When she saw 
io them removing Hatteraick, in order to clear the room and 
leave the surgeon to his operations, she called out aloud, 
raising herself at the same time upon the couch, “Dirk Hat- 
teraick, you and I will never meet again until we are before 
the judgment-seat — Will ye own to what I have said, or will 
is you dare deny it?” He turned his hardened brow upon her, 
with a look of dumb and inflexible defiance. “Dirk Hat- 
teraick, dare ye deny, with my blood upon your hands, one 
word of what my dying breath is uttering ? ” — He looked at 
her with the same expression of hardihood and dogged stub- 
20 bornness, and moved his lips, but uttered no sound. “Then 
fareweel!” she said, “and God forgive you! your hand has 
sealed my evidence. — When I was in life, I was the mad 
randy gypsy, that had been scourged, and banished, and 
branded — that had begged from door to door, and been 
25 hounded like a stray tike from parish to parish — wha would 
hae minded her tale ? — But now I am a dying woman, and 
my words will not fall to the ground, any more than the earth 
will cover my blood!” 

She here paused, and all left the hut except the surgeon 
30 and two or three women. After a very short examination, he 
shook his head, and resigned his post by the dying woman’s 
side to the clergyman. 

A chaise returning empty to Kippletringan had been stopped 


GUY M ANNE RING 


415 


on the high-road by a constable, who foresaw it would be 
necessary to convey Hatteraick to jail. The driver, under- 
standing what was going on at Derncleugh, left the horses to 
the care of a blackguard boy, confiding, it is to be supposed, 
rather in the years and discretion of the cattle, than in those 5 
of their keeper, and set off full speed to see, as he expressed 
himself, “whaten a sort o’ fun was gaun on.” He arrived 
just as the group of tenants and peasants, whose numbers 
increased every moment, satiated with gazing upon the rugged 
features of Hatteraick, had turned their attention towards 10 
Bertram. Almost all of them, especially the aged men who 
had seen Ellangowan in his better days, felt and acknowledged 
the justice of Meg Merrilies’s appeal. But the Scotch are a 
cautious people ; they remembered there was another in pos- 
session of the estate, and they as yet only expressed their 15 
feelings in low whispers to each other. Our friend Jock 
Jabos, the postilion, forced his way into the middle of the 
circle ; but no sooner cast his eyes upon Bertram, than he 
started back in amazement, with a solemn exclamation, “As 
sure as there’s breath in man, it’s auld Ellangowan arisen 20 
from the dead ! ” 

This public declaration of an unprejudiced witness was just 
the spark wanted to give fire to the popular feeling, which 
burst forth in three distinct shouts : — “Bertram for ever !” 

— “Long life to the heir of Ellangowan !” — “God send him 25 
his ain, and to live among us as his forebears did of yore ! ” 

“I hae been seventy years on the land,” said one person. 

“I and mine hae been seventy and seventy to that,” said 
another; “I have a right to ken the glance of a Bertram.” 

“I and mine hae been three hundred years here,” said 30 
another old man, “and I sail sell my last cow, but I’ll see the 
young laird placed in his right.” 

The women, ever delighted with the marvellous, and not 


416 


GUY M ANNE RING 


less so when a handsome young man is the subject of the 
tale, added their shrill acclamations to the general all-hail. 
“Blessings on him — he’s the very picture o’ his father! — 
the Bertrams were aye the wale o’ the country side !” 

5 “Eh ! that his puir mother, that died in grief and in doubt 
about him, had but lived to see this day ! ” exclaimed some 
female voices. 

“But we’ll help him to his ain, kimmers,” cried others; 
“and before Glossin sail keep the Place of Ellangowan, we’ll 
iohowk him out o’t wi’ our nails!” 

Others crowded around Dinmont, who was nothing loth to 
tell what he knew of his friend, and to boast the honor which 
he had in contributing to the discovery. As he was known to 
several of the principal farmers present, his testimony afforded 
is an additional motive to the general enthusiasm. In short, it 
was one of those moments of intense feeling, when the frost 
of the Scottish people melts like a snow-wreath, and the dis- 
solving torrent carries dam and dyke before it. 

The sudden shouts interrupted the devotions of the clergy- 
20 man ; and Meg, who was in one of those dozing fits of stupe- 
faction that precede the close of existence, suddenly started — 
“Dinna ye hear? — dinna ye hear? — he’s owned! — he’s 
owned I — I lived but for this. I am a sinfu’ woman ; but if 
my curse brought it down, my blessing has taen it off ! And 
25 now I wad hae liked to hae said mair. But it canna be. 
Stay” — she continued, stretching her head towards the gleam 
of light that shot through the narrow slit which served for a 
window, “Is he not there? — stand out o’ the light, and let 
me look upon him ance mair. But the darkness is in my ain 
30 een,” she said, sinking back, after an earnest gaze upon vacuity 
— “it’s a’ ended now, 

‘Pass breath, 

Come death.’ ” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


417 


And, sinking back upon her couch of straw, she expired 
without a groan. The clergyman and the surgeon carefully 
noted down all that she had said, now deeply regretting they 
had not examined her more minutely, but both remaining 
morally convinced of the truth of her disclosure. 5 

Hazlewood was the first to compliment Bertram upon the 
near prospect of his being restored to his name and rank in 
society. The people around, who now learned from Jabos 
that Bertram was the person who had wounded him, were 
struck with his generosity, and added his name to Bertram’s io 
in theii* exulting acclamations. 

The obduracy of Hatteraick, during the latter part of this 
scene, was in some slight degree shaken. He was observed 
to twinkle with his eyelids — to attempt to raise his bound 
hands for the purpose of pulling his hat over his brow — to 15 
look angrily and impatiently to the road, as if anxious for 
the vehicle which was to remove him from the spot. At 
length Mr. Hazlewood, apprehensive that the popular ferment 
might take a direction towards the prisoner, directed he 
should be taken to the post-chaise, and so removed to the 20 
town of Kippletringan to be at Mr. Mac-Morlan’s disposal; 
at the same time he sent an express to warn that gentleman 
of what had happened. “And now,” he said to Bertram, 

“I should be happy if you would accompany me to Hazle- 
wood House; but as that might not be so agreeable just now 25 
as I trust it will be in a day or two, you must allow me to 
return with you to Woodbourne. But you are on foot.” — 
“Or if the young laird would take my horse 1 ” — “Or mine” 

— “Or mine,” said half-a-dozen voices — “Or mine; he can 
trot ten mile an hour without whip or spur, and he’s the young 30 
laird’s frae this moment, if he likes to take him for a herezeld , 1 

1 This hard word is placed in the mouth of one of the aged 
tenants. In the old feudal tenures, the herezeld constituted 
2 E 


418 


GUY MANNERING 


as they ca’d it lang syne.” — Bertram readily accepted the 
horse as a loan, and poured forth his thanks to the assembled 
crowd for their good wishes, which they repaid with shouts 
and vows of attachment. 

5 While the happy owner was directing one lad to “gae down 
for the new saddle” ; another, “just to rin the beast ower wi’ 
a dry wisp o’ strae” ; a third, “to hie doun and borrow Dan 
Dunkieson’s plated stirrups,” and expressing his regret, “that 
there was nae time to gie the nag a feed, that the young laird 
io might ken his metal,” Bertram, taking the clergyman by the 
arm, walked into the vault, and shut the door immediately 
after them. He gazed in silence for some minutes upon the 
body of Meg Merrilies, as it lay before him, with the features 
sharpened by death, yet still retaining the stern and energetic 
is character, which had maintained in life her superiority as the 
wild chieftainess of the lawless people amongst whom she was 
born. The young soldier dried the tears which involuntarily 
rose on viewing this wreck of one, who might be said to have 
died a victim to her fidelity to his person and family. He 
20 then took the clergyman’s hand. 

“May I request,” said Bertram, “that you will see every 
decent solemnity attended to in behalf of this poor woman? 
I have some property belonging to her in my hands — at all 
events I will be answerable for the expense — you will hear of 
25 me at Woodbourne.” 

Dinmont, who had been furnished with a horse by one of 
his acquaintance, now loudly called out that all was ready 
for their return ; and Bertram and Hazlewood, after a strict 

the best. horse or other animal on the vassals’ lands, become 
the right of the superior. The only remnant of this custom 
is what is called the sasine, or a fee of certain estimated value, 
paid to the sheriff of the county, who gives possession to the 
vassals of the crown. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


419 


exhortation to the crowd, which was now increased to several 
hundreds, to preserve good order in their rejoicing, as the 
least ungoverned zeal might be turned to the disadvantage 
of the young Laird, as they termed him, took their leave amid 
the shouts of the multitude. 5 

As they rode past the ruined cottages at Derncleugh, 
Dinmont said, “I’m sure when ye come to your ain, Captain, 
ye’ll no forget to bigg a bit cot-house there? Deil be in me 
but I wad do’t mysell, an it werena in better hands. — I 
wadna like to live in’t though, after what she said. Odd, I io 
wad put in auld Elspeth, the bedral’s widow — the like o’ 
them’s used wi’ graves and ghaists, and thae things.” 

A short but brisk ride brought them to Woodbourne. The 
news of their exploit had already flown far and wide, and 
the whole inhabitants of the vicinity met them on the lawn is 
with shouts of congratulation. “That you have seen me 
alive,” said Bertram to Lucy, who first ran up to him, though 
Julia’s eyes even anticipated hers, “you must thank these 
kind friends.” 

With a blush expressing at once pleasure, gratitude, and 20 
bashfulness, Lucy curtsied to Hazlewood, but to Dinmont 
she frankly extended her hand. The honest farmer, in the 
extravagance of his joy, carried his freedom farther than the 
hint warranted, for he imprinted his thanks on the lady’s lips, 
and was instantly shocked at the rudeness of his own conduct. 25 
“Lordsake, madam, I ask your pardon,” he said; “I forgot 
but ye had been a bairn o’ my ain — the Captain’s sae hamely, 
he gars ane forget himsell.” 

Old Pleydell now advanced: “Nay, if fees like these are 
going ” he said. 30 

“Stop, stop, Mr. Pleydell,” said Julia, “you had your fees 
beforehand — remember last night.” 

“Why, I do confess a retainer,” said the barrister; “but 


420 


GUY MANNER1NG 


if I don’t deserve double fees from both Miss Bertram and 
you when I conclude my examination of Dirk Hatteraick 
to-morrow — Gad, I will so supple him ! — You shall see. 
Colonel, and you, my saucy misses, though you may not 
5 see, shall hear.” 

While this idle chat ran on, Colonel Mannering introduced 
to Bertram a plain good-looking man, in a gray coat and 
waistcoat, buckskin breeches, and boots. “This, my dear 
sir, is Mr. Mac-Morlan.” 

io “To whom,” said Bertram, embracing him cordially, “my 
sister was indebted for a home, when deserted by all her 
natural friends and relations.” 

The Dominie then pressed forward, grinned, chuckled, 
made a diabolical sound in attempting to whistle, and finally, 
15 unable to stifle his emotions, ran away to empty the feelings 
of his heart at his eyes. 


CHAPTER LVI 


How like a hateful ape,° 

Detected grinning ’midst his pilfer’d hoard, 

A cunning man appears, whose secret frauds 
Are open’d to the day ! 

Count Basil. 

There was a great movement at Woodbourne early on the 
following morning, to attend the examination at Kipple- 
tringan. Mr. Pleydell, from the investigation which he had 
formerly bestowed on the dark affair of Kennedy’s death, as 
well as from the general deference due to his professional 5 
abilities, was requested by Mr. Mac-Morlan and Sir Robert 
Hazlewood, and another justice of peace who attended, to 
take the situation of chairman, and the lead in the exami- 
nation. Colonel Mannering was invited to sit down 
with them. The examinations, being previous to trial, was 10 
private in other respects. 

The counsellor resumed and re-interrogated former evi- 
dence. He then examined the clergyman and surgeon 
respecting the dying declaration of Meg Merrilies. They 
stated, that she distinctly, positively, and repeatedly, declared 15 
herself an eyewitness of Kennedy’s death by the hands of 
Hatteraick, and two or three of his crew; that her presence 
was accidental ; that she believed their resentment at meeting 
him, when they were in the act of losing their vessel through 
the means of his information, led to the commission of the 20 
crime; that she said there was one witness of the murder, 
but who refused to participate in it, still alive, — her nephew, 


422 


GUY MANNERING 


Gabriel Faa ; and she had hinted at another person, who was 
an accessory after, not before, the fact ; but her strength there 
failed her. They did not forget to mention her declaration, 
that she had saved the child, and that he was torn from her 
5 by the smugglers, for the purpose of carrying him to Holland. 

— All these particulars were carefully reduced to writing. 

Dirk Hatteraick was then brought in, heavily ironed; for 

he had been strictly secured and guarded, owing to his former 
escape. He was asked his name ; he made no answer : — His 
io profession ; he was silent : — Several other questions were put ; 
to none of which he returned any reply. Pleydell wiped the 
glasses of his spectacles, and considered the prisoner very 
attentively. “ A very truculent-looking fellow,” he whispered 
to Mannering; “but, as Dogberry 0 says, I’ll go cunningly to 
15 work with him. — Here, call in Soles — Soles the shoemaker. 

— Soles, do you remember measuring some footsteps 0 im- 
printed on the mud at the wood of Warroch, on No- 

vember 17 — , by my orders?” Soles remembered the 
circumstance perfectly. “ Look at that paper — is that your 

20 note of the measurement?” — 'Soles verified the memoran- 
dum — “Now, there stands a pair of shoes on that table; 
measure them, and see if they correspond with any of the 
marks you have noted there.” The shoemaker obeyed, and 
declared, “that they answered exactly to the largest of the 
25 foot-prints.” 

“We shall prove,” said the counsellor, aside to Mannering, 
“that these shoes, which were found in the ruins of Dern- 
cleugh, belonged to Brown, the fellow whom you shot on the 
lawn at Woodbourne. — Now, Soles, measure that prisoner’s 
30 feet very accurately.” 

Mannering observed Hatteraick strictly, and could notice 
a visible tremor. “Do these measurements correspond with 
any of the foot-prints ? ” 


GUY M ANNE RING 


423 


The man looked at the note, then at his foot-rule and 
measure — then verified his former measurement by a second. 
“They correspond,” he said, “within a hair-breadth, to a 
foot-mark broader and shorter than the former.” 

Hatteraick’s genius here deserted him — “Der deyvil !” he 5 
broke out, “how could there be a foot-mark on the ground, 
when it was a frost as hard as the heart of a Memel log?” 

“In the evening, I grant you, Captain Hatteraick,” said 
Pleydell, “but not in the forenoon — will you favor me with 
information where you were upon the day you remember so 10 
exactly?” 

Hatteraick saw his blunder, and again screwed up his hard 
features for obstinate silence — “Put down his observation, 
however,” said Pleydell to the clerk. 

At this moment the door opened, and, much to the surprise 15 
of most present, Mr. Gilbert Glossin made his appearance. 
That worthy gentleman had, by dint of watching and eaves- 
dropping, ascertained that he was not mentioned by name in 
Meg Merrilies’ dying declaration, a circumstance, certainly 
not owing to any favorable disposition towards him, but to 20 
the delay of taking her regular examination, and to the rapid 
approach of death. He therefore supposed himself safe from 
all evidence but such as might arise from Hatteraick’s con- 
fession; to prevent which he resolved to push a bold face, 
and join his brethren of the bench during his examination. — 25 
“I shall be able,” he thought, “ to make the rascal sensible his 
safety lies in keeping his own counsel and mine; and my 
presence, besides, will be a proof of confidence and innocence. 

If I must lose the estate, I must — but I trust better things.” 

He entered with a profound salutation to Sir Robert Hazle- 30 
wood. Sir Robert, who had rather begun to suspect that his 
plebeian neighbor had made a cat’s-paw of him, inclined 
his head stiffly, took snuff, and looked another way. 


424 


GUY MANN BRING 


“Mr. Corsand,” said Glossin to the other yoke-fellow of 
justice, “your most humble servant.” 

“Your humble servant, Mr. Glossin/’ answered Mr. Cor- 
sand dryly, composing his countenance regis ad exemplar , 0 
5 that is to say, after the fashion of the Baronet. 

“Mac-Morlan, my worthy friend,” continued Glossin, 
“how d’ye do — always on your duty?” 

“Umph,” said honest Mac-Morlan, with little respect 
either to the compliment or salutation. “Colonel Manner- 
10 ing (a low bow slightly returned) and Mr. Pleydell (another 
low bow), I dared not have hoped for your assistance to poor 
country gentlemen at this period of the session.” 

Pleydell took snuff, and eyed him with a glance equally 
shrewd and sarcastic — “I’ll teach him,” he said aside to 
15 Mannering, “the value of the old admonition, Ne aecesseris 
in consilium antequam voceris.” ° 

“But perhaps I intrude, gentlemen?” said Glossin, who 
could not fail to observe the coldness of his reception. — “Is 
this an open meeting?” 

20 “For my part,” said Mr. Pleydell, “so far from considering 
your attendance as an intrusion, Mr. Glossin, I was never so 
pleased in my life to meet with you ; especially as I think we 
should, at any rate, have had occasion to request the favor 
of your company in the course of the day.” 

25 “Well, then, gentlemen,” said Glossin, drawing his chair to 
the table, and beginning to bustle about among the papers, 
“where are we? — how far have we got? where are the 
declarations ? ” 

“Clerk, give me all these papers,” said Mr. Pleydell ; — “I 
30 have an odd way of arranging my documents, Mr. Glossin, 
another person touching them puts me out — but I shall have 
occasion for your assistance by-and-by.” 

Glossin, thus reduced to inactivity, stole one glance at Dirk 


GUY MANNERING 


425 


Hatteraick, but could read nothing in his dark scowl, save 
malignity and hatred to all around. “ But, gentlemen,” said 
Glossin, “is it quite right to keep this poor man so heavily 
ironed, when he is taken up merely for examination?” 

This was hoisting a kind of friendly signal to the prisoner. 5 
“He has escaped once before,” said Mac-Morlan dryly, and 
Glossin was silenced. 

Bertram was now introduced, and, to Glossin’s confusion, 
was greeted in the most friendly manner by all present, even 
by Sir Robert Hazlewood himself. He told his recollections 10 
of his infancy with that candor and caution of expression 
which afforded the best warrant for his good faith. “This 
seems to be rather a civil than a criminal question,” said 
Glossin, rising; “and as you cannot be ignorant, gentlemen, 
of the effect which this young person’s pretended parentage 15 
may have on my patrimonial interest, I would rather beg 
leave to retire.” 

“No, my good sir,” said Mr. Pleydell, “we can by no 
means spare you. But why do you call this young man’s 
claims pretended? — I don’t mean to fish for your defences 20 
against them, if you have any, but ” 

“Mr. Pleydell,” replied Glossin, “I am always disposed to 
act above-board, and I think I can explain the matter at 
once. — This young fellow, whom I take to be a natural 
son of the late Ellangowan, has gone about the country for 25 
some weeks under different names, caballing with a wretched 
old madwoman, who, I understand, was shot in a late scuffle, 
and with other tinkers, gypsies, and persons of that descrip- 
tion, and a great brute farmer from Liddesdale, stirring up 
the tenants against their landlords, which, as Sir Robert 30 
Hazlewood of Hazlewood knows ” 

“Not to interrupt you, Mr. Glossin,” said Pleydell, “I ask 
who you say this young man is ? ” 


426 


GUY MANNERING 


“Why, I say,” replied Glossin, “and I believe that gentle- 
man (looking at Hatteraick) knows, that the young man is 
the natural son of the late Ellangowan, by a girl called Janet 
Lightoheel, who was afterwards married to Hewit the ship- 
S wright, that lived in the neighborhood of Annan. His name 
is Godfrey Bertram Hewit, by which name he was entered on 
board the Royal Caroline excise yacht.” 

“Ay?” said Pleydell, “that is a very likely story 1 — but, 
not to pause upon some difference of eyes, complexion, and so 
io forth — be pleased to step forward, sir.” A young sea- 
faring man came forward. “Here,” proceeded the coun- 

sellor, “is the real Simon Pure — here’s Godfrey Bertram 
Hewit, 0 arrived last night from Antigua via Liverpool, mate 
of a West Indian, and in a fair way of doing well in the world, 
is although he came somewhat irregularly into it.” 

While some conversation passed between the other justices 
and this young man, Pleydell lifted from among the papers on 
the table Hatteraick’s old pocket-book. A peculiar glance of 
the smuggler’s eye induced the shrewd lawyer to think there 
20 was something here of interest. He therefore continued the 
examination of the papers, laying the book on the table, but 
instantly perceived that the prisoner’s interest in the research 
had cooled. — “It must be in the book still, whatever it is,” 
thought Pleydell ; and again applied himself to the pocket- 
25 book, until he discovered, on a narrow scrutiny, a slit between 
the pasteboard and leather, out of which he drew three small 
slips of paper. Pleydell now, turning to Glossin, requested 
the favor that he would tell them if he had assisted at the 
search for the body of Kennedy, and the child of his patron, 
30 on the day when they disappeared. 

“I did not — that is — I did,” answered the conscience- 
struck Glossin. 

“It^is remarkable though,” said the advocate, “that, con- 


GUY M ANNE RING 


427 


nected as you were with the Ellangowan family, I don’t 
recollect your being examined, or even appearing before me, 
while that investigation was proceeding?” 

“I was called to London,” answered Glossin, “on most 
important business, the morning after that sad affair.” 5 

“Clerk,” said Pleydell, “minute down that reply. — I pre- 
sume the business, Mr. Glossin, was to negotiate these three 
bills, drawn by you on Messrs. Vanbeest and Vanbruggen, 
and accepted by one Dirk Hatteraick in their name on the 
very day of the murder. I congratulate you on their being 10 
regularly retired, as I perceive they have been. I think the 
chances were against it.” Glossin’s countenance fell. “This 
piece of real evidence,” continued Mr. Pleydell, “makes good 
the account given of your conduct on this occasion by a man 
called Gabriel Faa, whom we have now in custody, and who 15 
witnessed the whole transaction between you and that worthy 
prisoner — Have you any explanation to give?” 

“Mr. Pleydell,” said Glossin, with great composure, “I 
presume if you were my counsel, you would not advise me 
to answer upon the spur of the moment to a charge which the 20 
basest of mankind seem ready to establish by perjury.” 

“My advice,” said the counsellor, “would be regulated by 
my opinion of your innocence of guilt. In your case, I believe 
you take the wisest course ; but you are aware you must stand 
committed?” 25 

“Committed? for what, sir?” replied Glossin. “Upon a 
charge of murder?” 

“No; only as art and part of kidnapping the child.” 

“That is a bailable offence.” 

“Pardon me,” said Pleydell, “it is plagium , and plagium is 30 
felony.” 

“Forgive me, Mr. Pleydell; there is only one case upon 
record, Torrence and Waldie. They were, you remember, 


428 


GUY MANNERING 


resurrection-women, who had promised to procure a child’s 
body for some young surgeons. Being upon honor to their 
employers, rather than disappoint the evening lecture of the 
students, they stole a live child, murdered it, and sold the 
S body for three shillings and sixpence. They were hanged, 
but for the murder, not for the plagium . 1 Your civil law 
has carried you a little too far.” 

“ Well, sir ; but, in the meantime, Mr. Mac-Morlan must 
commit you to the county jail, in case this young man repeats 
io the same story. — Officers, remove Mr. Glossin and Hat- 
teraick, and guard them in different apartments.” 

Gabriel, the gypsy, was then introduced, and gave a dis- 
tinct account of his deserting from Captain Pritchard’s vessel 
and joining the smugglers in the action, detailed how Dirk 
i s Hatteraick set fire to his ship when he found her disabled, and 
under cover of the smoke escaped with his crew, and as much 
goods as they could save, into the cavern, where they proposed 
to lie till night-fall. Hatteraick himself, his mate Vanbeest 
Brown, and three others, of whom the declarant was one, went 
20 into the adjacent woods to communicate with some of their 
friends in the neighborhood. They fell in with Kennedy 
unexpectedly, and Hatteraick and Brown, aware that he was 
the occasion of their disasters, resolved to murder him. He 
stated, that he had seen them lay violent hands on the officer, 
25 and drag him through the woods, but had not partaken in the 
assault, nor witnessed its termination. That he returned to 
the cavern, by a different route, where he again met Hat- 
teraick and his accomplices; and the captain was in the act 
of giving an account how he and Brown had pushed a huge 
30 crag over, as Kennedy lay groaning on the beach, when 
Glossin suddenly appeared among them. To the whole 

1 This is, in its circumstances and issue, actually a case tried 
and reported. 


GUY M ANNE RING 


429 


transaction by which Hatteraick purchased his secrecy he 
was witness. Respecting young Bertram, he could give a 
distinct account till he went to India, after which he had lost 
sight of him until he unexpectedly met with him in Liddes- 
dale. Gabriel Faa further stated, that he instantly sent notice 5 
to his aunt, Meg Merrilies, as well as to Hatteraick, who he 
knew was then upon the coast ; but that he had incurred his 
aunt’s displeasure upon the latter account. He concluded, 
that his aunt had immediately declared that she would do all 
that lay in her power to help young Ellangowan to his right, 10 
even if it should be by informing against Dirk Hatteraick; 
and that many of her people assisted her besides himself, 
from a belief that she was gifted with supernatural inspira- 
tions. With the same purpose, he understood, his aunt had 
given to Bertram the treasure of the tribe, of which she had 15 
the custody. Three or four gypsies, by the express command 
of Meg Merrilies, mingled in the crowd when the Custom- 
house was attacked, for the purpose of liberating Bertram, 
which he had himself effected. He said, that in obeying 
Meg’s dictates they did not pretend to estimate their pro- 20 
priety or rationality, the respect in which she was held by her 
tribe precluding all such subjects of speculation. Upon 
further interrogation, the witness added, that his aunt had 
always said that Harry Bertram carried that round his neck 
which would ascertain his birth. It was a spell, she said, that 25 
an Oxford scholar had made for him, and she possessed the 
smugglers with an opinion, that to deprive him of it would 
occasion the loss of the vessel. 

Bertram here produced a small velvet bag, which he said he 
had worn round his neck from his earliest infancy, and which 30 
he had preserved, first from superstitious reverence, and, 
latterly, from the hope that it might serve one day to aid in 
the discovery of his birth. The bag, being opened, was found 


430 


GUY M ANNE RING 


to contain a blue silk case, from which was drawn a scheme 
of nativity. Upon inspecting this paper, Colonel Mannering 
instantly admitted it was his own composition ; and afforded 
the strongest and most satisfactory evidence, that the pos- 
5 sessor of it must necessarily be the young heir of Ellangowan, 
by avowing his having first appeared in that country in the 
character of an astrologer. 

“And now/’ said Pleydell, “make out warrants of com- 
mitment for Hatteraick and Glossin until liberated in due 
io course of law.” 


CHAPTER LVII 


Unfit to live or die — 0 marble heart !° 

After him, fellows, drag him to the block. 

Measure for Measure. 

The jail at the county town of the shire of was one of 

those old-fashioned dungeons which disgraced Scotland until 
of late years. When the prisoners and their guard arrived 
there, Hatteraick, whose violence and strength were well 
known, was secured in what was called the condemned ward. 5 
This was a large apartment near the top of the prison. A 
round bar of iron, about the thickness of a man’s arm above 
the elbow, crossed the apartment horizontally at the height of 
about six inches from the floor; and its extremities were 
strongly built into the wall at either end. 1 Hatteraick’s io 
ankles were secured within shackles, which were connected by 
a chain at the distance of about four feet, with a large iron 
ring, which travelled upon the bar we have described. Thus a 
prisoner might shuffle along the length of the bar from one 
side of the room to another, but could not retreat farther from is 
it in any other direction than the brief length of the chain 
admitted. When his feet had been thus secured, the keeper 

1 This mode of securing prisoners was universally practised 
in Scotland after condemnation. When a man received 
sentence of death, he was put upon the Gad, as it was called, 
that is, secured to the bar of iron in the manner mentioned 
in the text. The practice subsisted in Edinburgh till the 
old jail was taken down some years since, and perhaps may 
be still in use. 


431 


432 


GUY MANNERING 


removed his handcuffs, and left his person at liberty in other 
respects. A pallet-bed was placed close to the bar of iron, so 
that the shackled prisoner might lie down at pleasure, still 
fastened to the iron bar in the manner described. 

S Hatteraick had not been long in this place of confinement 
before Glossin arrived at the same prison-house. In respect 
to his comparative rank and education, he was not ironed, 
but placed in a decent apartment, under the inspection of 
Mac-Guffog, who, since the destruction of the Bridewell of 
io Portanferry by the mob, had acted here as an under-turnkey. 
When Glossin was enclosed within this room, and had solitude 
and leisure to calculate all the chances against him and in his 
favor, he could not prevail upon himself to consider the 
game as desperate. 

is “The estate is lost,” he said, “that must go; and, between 
Pleydell and Mac-Morlan, they’ll cut down my claim on it to 
a trifle. My character — but if I get off with life and liberty, 
I’ll win money yet, and varnish that over again. I knew not 
the gauger’s job until the rascal had done the deed, and 
20 though I had some advantage by the contraband, that is no 
felony. But the kidnapping of the boy — there they touch 
me closer. Let me see : — This Bertram was a child at the 
time — his evidence must be imperfect — the other fellow is a 
deserter, a gypsy, and an outlaw — Meg Merrilies, d — n her, 
25 is dead. These infernal bills ! Hatteraick brought them with 
him, I suppose, to have the means of threatening me, or 
extorting money from me. I must endeavor to see the 
rascal ; — must get him to stand steady ; must persuade him 
to put some other color upon the business.” 

30 His mind teeming with schemes of future deceit to cover 
former villainy, he spent the time in arranging and combining 
them until the hour of supper. Mac-Guffog attended as 
turnkey on this occasion. He was, as we know, the old 


GUY M ANNE RING 


433 


and special acquaintance of the prisoner who was now under 
his charge. After giving the turnkey a glass of brandy, and 
sounding him with one or two cajoling speeches, Glossin made 
it his request that he would help him to an interview with 
Dirk Hatteraick. “Impossible! utterly impossible! it’s con- 5 
trary to the express orders of Mr. Mac-Morlan, and the 
captain” (as the head jailor of a county jail is called in Scot- 
land) “would never forgie me.” 

“But why should he know of it?” said Glossin, slipping 
a couple of guineas into Mac-Guffog’s hand. 10 

The turnkey weighed the gold, and looked sharp at Glossin. 
“Ay, ay, Mr. Glossin, ye ken the ways o’ this place. — 
Lookee, at lock-up hour, I’ll return and bring ye upstairs to 
him — But ye must stay a’ night in his cell, for I am under 
needcessity to carry the keys to the captain for the night, is 
and I cannot let you out again until morning — then I’ll 
visit the wards half-an-hour earlier than usual, and ye may 
get out, and be snug in your ain berth when the captain 
gangs his rounds.” 

, When the hour of ten had pealed from the neighboring 20 
steeple, Mac-Guff og came prepared with a small dark lantern. 
He said softly to Glossin, “Slip your shoes off, and follow 
me.” When Glossin was out of the door, Mac-Guffog, as 
if in the execution of his ordinary duty, and speaking to a 
prisoner within, called aloud, “Good-night to you, sir,” and 25 
locked the door, clattering the bolts with much ostentatious 
noise. He then guided Glossin up a steep and narrow stair, 
at the top of which was the door of the condemned ward; 
he unbarred and unlocked it, and, giving Glossin the lantern, 
made a sign to him to enter, and locked the door behind him 30 
with the same affected accuracy. 

In the large dark cell into which he was thus introduced, 
Glossin’s feeble light for some time enabled him to discover 


434 


GUY MANNERING 


nothing. At length he could dimly distinguish the pallet- 
bed stretched on the floor beside the great iron bar which 
traversed the room, and on that pallet reposed the figure of a 
man. Glossin approached him. “Dirk Hatteraick !” 

5 “Donner and hagel ! it is his voice,” said the prisoner, 
sitting up, and clashing his fetters as he rose, “then my 
dream is true ! — Begone, and leave me to myself — it will 
be your best.” 

“What ! my good friend,” said Glossin, “will you allow the 
io prospect of a few weeks’ confinement to depress your spirit?” 

“Yes,” answered the ruffian sullenly — “when I am only 
to be released by a halter ! — Let me alone — go about your 
business, and turn the lamp from my face!” 

“Psha! my dear Dirk, don’t be afraid,” said Glossin — “I 
is have a glorious plan to make all right.” 

“To the bottomless pit with your plans ! ” replied his accom- 
plice. “You have planned me out of ship, cargo, and life; 
and I dreamt this moment that Meg Merrilies dragged you 
here by the hair, and gave me the long clasped knife she used 
20 to wear — you don’t know what she said. Sturm wetter ! 
it will be your wisdom not to tempt me!” 

“But, Hatteraick, my good friend, do but rise and speak to 
me,” said Glossin. 

“I will not!” answered the savage doggedly — “you have 
25 caused all the mischief ; you would not let Meg keep the 
boy; she would have returned him after he had forgot all.” 

“Why, Hatteraick, you are turned driveller!” 

“Wetter ! will you deny that all that cursed attempt at 
Portanferry, which lost both sloop and crew, was your de- 
30 vice for your own job ? ” 

“But the goods, you know ” 

“Curse the goods!” said the smuggler, — “we could have 
got plenty more; but, der dey vil ! to lose the ship and the 


GUY M ANNE RING 


435 


fine fellows, and my own life, for a cursed coward villain, that 
always works his own mischief with other people’s hands! 
Speak to me no more — I’m dangerous.” 

“But, Dirk — but, Hatteraick, hear me only a few words.” 

“Hagel! nein.” ' 5 

“Only one sentence.” 

“Tausand curses — nein.” 

“At least get up, for an obstinate Dutch brute!” said 
Glossin, losing his temper, and pushing Hatteraick with his 
foot. IO 

“Donner and blitzen!” said Hatteraick, springing up and 
grappling with him; “you will have it then?” 

Glossin struggled and resisted; but, owing to his surprise 
at the fury of the assault, so ineffectually, that he fell under 
Hatteraick, the back part of his neck coming full upon the is 
iron bar with stunning violence. The death-grapple con- 
tinued. The room immediately below the condemned ward, 
being that of Glossin, was, of course, empty ; but the inmates 
of the second apartment beneath felt the shock of Glossin’s 
heavy fall, and heard a noise as of struggling and of groans. 20 
But all sounds of horror were too congenial to this place 
to excite much curiosity or interest. 

In the morning, faithful to his promise, Mac-Guff og came 
— “Mr. Glossin,” said he, in a whispering voice. 

“Call louder,” answered Dirk Hatteraick. 25 

“Mr. Glossin, for God’s sake come away !” 

“He’ll hardly do that without help,” said Hatteraick. 

“What are you chattering there for, Mac-Guffog?” called 
out the captain from below. 

“Come away, for God’s sake, Mr. Glossin!” repeated the 30 
turnkey. 

At this moment the jailor made his appearance with a 
light. Great was his surprise, and even horror, to observe 


436 


GUY MANNERING 


Glossin’s body lying doubled across the iron bar, in a posture 
that excluded all idea of his being alive. Hatteraick was 
quietly stretched upon his pallet within a yard of his victim. 
On lifting Glossin, it was found he had been dead for some 
S hours. His body bore uncommon marks of violence. The 
spine where it joins the skull had received severe injury by 
his first fall. There were distinct marks of strangulation 
about the throat, which corresponded with the blackened 
state of his face. The head was turned backward over the 
io shoulder, as if the neck had been wrung round with desperate 
violence. So that it would seem that his inveterate antagonist 
had fixed a fatal grip upon the wretch’s throat, and never 
quitted it while life lasted. The lantern, crushed and broken 
to pieces, lay beneath the body. 

is Mac-Morlan was in the town, and came instantly to ex- 
amine the corpse. “What brought Glossin here?” he said 
to Hatteraick. 

“The devil !” answered the ruffian. 

“And what did you do to him?” 

20 “Sent him to hell before me!” replied the miscreant. 

“Wretch,” said Mac-Morlan, “you have crowned a life 
spent without a single virtue, with the murder of your own 
miserable accomplice!” 

“Virtue?” exclaimed the prisoner; “donner! I was al- 
25 ways faithful to my shipowners — always accounted for 
cargo to the last stiver. Hark ye! let me have pen and 
ink, and I’ll write an account of the whole to our house ; and 
leave me alone a couple of hours, will ye — and let them take 
away that piece of carrion, donner wetter ! ” 

30 Mac-Morlan deemed it the best way to humor the savage ; 
he was furnished with writing materials and left alone. When 
they again opened the door, it was found that this determined 
villain had anticipated justice. He had adjusted a cord taken 


GUY MANN BRING 


437 


from the truckle-bed, and attached it to a bone, the relic of 
his yesterday’s dinner, which he had contrived to drive into a 
crevice between two stones in the wall at a height as great as 
he could reach, standing upon the bar. Having fastened the 
noose, he had the resolution to drop his body as if to fall on 5 
his knees, and to retain that posture until resolution was no 
longer necessary. The letter he had written to his owners, 
though chiefly upon the business of their trade, contained 
allusions to the younker of Ellangowan, as he called him, and 
afforded absolute confirmation of all Meg Merrilies and her 10 
nephew had told. 

To dismiss the catastrophe of these two wretched men, I 
shall only add, that Mac-Guffog was turned out of office, not- 
withstanding his declaration (which he offered to attest by 
oath), that he had locked Glossin safely in his own room 15 
upon the night preceding his being found dead in Dirk 
Hatteraick’s cell. His story, however, found faith with the 
worthy Mr. Skreigh, and other lovers of the marvellous, who 
still hold that the Enemy of Mankind brought these two 
wretches together upon that night, by supernatural inter- 20 
ference, that they might fill up the cup of their guilt and 
receive its meed, by murder and suicide. 


CHAPTER LVIII 


To sum the whole — the close of all.° 

Dean Swift. 

As Glossin died without heirs, and without payment of the 
price, the estate of Ellangowan was again thrown upon the 
hands of Mr. Godfrey Bertram’s creditors, the right of most 
of whom was however defeasible, in case Henry Bertram 
5 should establish his character of heir of entail. This young 
gentleman put his affairs into the hands of Mr. Pleydell and 
Mr. Mac-Morlan : with one single proviso, that though he 
himself should be obliged again to go to India, every debt, 
justly and honorably due by his father, should be made good 
io to the claimant. Mannering, who heard this declaration, 
grasped him kindly by the hand, and from that moment might 
be dated a thorough understanding between them. 

The hoards of Mrs. Margaret Bertram, and the liberal 
assistance of the Colonel, easily enabled the heir to make pro- 
15 vision for payment of the just creditors of his father, while the 
ingenuity and research of his law friends detected, especially 
in the accounts of Glossin, so many overcharges as greatly 
diminished the total amount. In these circumstances the 
creditors did not hesitate to recognize Bertram’s right, and 
20 to surrender to him the house and property of his ancestors. 
All the party repaired from Woodbourne to take possession, 
amid the shouts of the tenantry and the neighborhood ; and 
so eager was Colonel Mannering to superintend certain im- 
provements which he had recommended to Bertram, that he 
438 


GUY M ANNE RING 


439 


removed with his family from Woodbourne to Ellangowan, 
although at present containing much less and much inferior 
accommodation. 

The poor Dominie’s brain was almost turned with joy on 
returning to his old habitation. He posted upstairs, taking 5 
three steps at once, to a little shabby attic, his cell and dor- 
mitory in former days, and which the possession of his much 
superior apartment at Woodbourne had never banished 
from his memory. Here one sad thought suddenly struck 
the honest man — the books ! — no three rooms in Elian- 10 
gowan were capable to contain them. While this qualifying 
reflection was passing through his mind, he was suddenly 
summoned by Mannering to assist in calculating some pro- 
portions relating to a large and splendid house, which was to 
be built on the site of the New Place of Ellangowan, in a style is 
corresponding to the magnificence of the ruins in its vicinity. 
Among the various rooms in the plan, the Dominie observed, 
that one of the largest was entitled The Library ; and close 
beside was a snug well-proportioned chamber, entitled, Mr. 

•Sampson’s Apartment. — “Prodigious, prodigious, pro- 20 
di-gi-ous!” shouted the enraptured Dominie. 

Mr. Pleydell had left the party for some time; but he 
returned, according to promise, during the Christmas recess 
of the courts. He drove up to Ellangowan when all the 
family were abroad but the Colonel, who was busy with plans 25 
of buildings and pleasure-grounds, in which he was well 
skilled, and took great delight. 

“Ah ha!” said the counsellor, “so here you are! Where 
are the ladies? where is the fair Julia?” 

“Walking out with young Hazlewood, Bertram, and 30 
Captain Delaserre, a friend of his, who is with us just now. 
They are gone to plan out a cottage at Derncleugh, Well, 
have you carried through your law business?” 


440 


GUY MANNERING 


“With a wet finger,” answered the lawyer; “got our 
youngster’s special service retoured into Chancery. We had 
him served heir before the macers.” 

“Macers? who are they?” 

5 “Why, it is a kind of judicial Saturnalia. You must know, 
that one of the requisites to be a macer, or officer in attend- 
ance upon our supreme court, is, that they shall be men of no 
knowledge.” 

“Very well!” 

io “Now, our Scottish legislature, for the joke’s sake I sup- 
pose, have constituted those men of no knowledge into a 
peculiar court for trying questions of relationship and descent, 
such as this business of Bertram, which often involve the most 
nice and complicated questions of evidence.” 

15 “The devil they have? I should think that rather in- 
convenient,” said Mannering. 

“Oh, we have a practical remedy for the theoretical absurd- 
ity. One or two of the judges act upon such occasions as 
prompters and assessors to their own door-keepers. But you 

20 know what Cujacius says, ‘ Multa sunt° in moribus dissentanea , 
multa sine rationed 1 However, this Saturnalian court has done 
our business ; and a glorious batch of claret we had afterwards 
at Walker’s. Mac-Morlan will stare when he sees the bill.” 

“Never fear,” said the Colonel, “we’ll face the shock, 

25 and entertain the county at my friend Mrs. Mac-Candlish’s 
to boot.” 

“And choose Jock Jabos for your master of horse?” replied 
the lawyer. 

“Perhaps I may.” 

30 “And where is Dandie, the redoubted Lord of Liddesdale ? ” 
demanded the advocate. 

1 The singular inconsistency hinted at is now, in a great 
degree, removed. — Scott’s note. 


GUY MANNERING 


441 


“Returned to his mountains; but he has promised Julia to 
make a descent in summer, with the goodwife, as he calls her, 
and I don’t know how many children.” 

“Oh, the curly-headed varlets! I must come to play 
at Blind Harry and Hy Spy with them. — But what is all 5 
this?” added Pleydell, taking up the plans ; — “tower in the 
centre to be an imitation of the Eagle Tower at Caernarvon 
— • corps de logis — the devil ! — wings — wings ? why, the 
house will take the estate of Ellangowan on its back, and fly 
away with it!” 10 

“Why then, we must ballast it with a few bags of Sicca 
rupees,” replied the Colonel. 

“Aha! sits the wind there? Then I suppose the young 
dog carries off my mistress Julia?” 

“Even so, counsellor.” 15 

“These rascals, the post-nati,° get the better of us of the old 
school at every turn,” said Mr. Pleydell. “But she must 
convey and make over her interest in me to Lucy.” 

“To tell you the truth, I am afraid your flank will be turned 
there too,” replied the Colonel. 20 

“Indeed?” 

“Here has been Sir Robert Hazlewood,” said Manner- 
ing, “upon a visit to Bertram, thinking, and deeming, and 
opining ” 

“O Lord! pray spare me the worthy Baronet’s triads!” 25 

“Well, sir,” continued Mannering; “to make short, he 
conceived that as the property of Singleside lay like a wedge 
between two farms of his, and was four or five miles separated 
from Ellangowan, something like a sale, or exchange, or 
arrangement might take place, to the mutual convenience of 30 
both parties.” 

“Well, and Bertram ” 

“Why, Bertram replied, that he considered the original 


442 


GUY M ANNE RING 


settlement of Mrs. Margaret Bertram as the arrangement most 
proper in the circumstances of the family, and that therefore 
the estate of Singleside was the property of his sister. 5 ’ 

“The rascal! 55 said Pleydell, wiping his spectacles, “he’ll 
5 steal my heart as well as my mistress — Et puis?”° 

“And then, Sir Robert retired after many gracious speeches ; 
but last week he again took the field in force, with his coach 
and six horses, his laced scarlet waistcoat, and best bob-wig — 
all very grand, as the good-boy books say. 55 
io “Ay! and what was his overture? 55 

“Why, he talked with great form of an attachment on the 
part of Charles Hazlewood to Miss Bertram.” 

“Ay, ay; he respected the little god Cupid when he saw 
him perched on the Dun of Singleside. And is poor Lucy to 
1 5 keep house with that old fool and his wife, who is just the 
knight himself in petticoats? 55 

“No — we parried that. Singleside House is to be repaired 
for the young people, and to be called hereafter Mount 
Hazlewood.” 

20 “And do you yourself, Colonel, propose to continue at 
Woodbourne?” 

“Only till we carry these plans into effect. See, here’s the 
plan of my Bungalow, with all conveniences for being separate 
and sulky when I please.” 

25 “And, being situated, as I see, next door to the old castle, 
you may repair Donagild’s tower for the nocturnal con- 
templation of the celestial bodies? Bravo, Colonel!” 

“No, no, my dear counsellor! Here ends The Astrol- 
oger.” 


NOTES 


GLOSSARY 


SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 





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Map of Guy Mannering Region. 




444 


NOTES 


The map on the opposite page has been constructed largely 
from the description of the region given in a charming volume, 
The Country of Sir Walter Scott , by Charles S. Olcott, 
Houghton Mifflin, 1913. Mr. Olcott in 1911 made a tour of 
those parts of England and Scotland which furnished the 
background for Scott’s works. With his camera he recorded 
numerous views of places of interest to all lovers of Scott. 

According to Mr. Olcott, Scott used a combination of 
scenery for the Galloway part of the story. Caerlaverock 
Castle, which from its description furnished the model for 
Ellangowan Auld Place, is on the east bank of the river Nith, 
just where it widens into Solway Firth. The little town of 
Glencaple, just above the castle, could be taken as the original 
of Portansferry, both from scenery and from geographical 
location. 

Mr. Olcott found, however, that the surroundings of 
Caerlaverock Castle did not in any way correspond with 
the environment of Ellangowan Auld Place. The proper 
setting he found at Torr’s Point, some forty miles to the 
west, from which a superb view of the Irish Sea could be 
had, with the English coast showing far away on the left 
and the Isle of Man faintly visible in the distance. 

Another part of the scene he located north and west at 
Ravenshall Point on the coast of Wigtown Bay. Here is 
the “ Gauger’s Loup,” a cliff on the rocky coast where a 
revenue officer was once attacked by smugglers and thrown 
to the beach below — thus furnishing the story of Kennedy. 

445 


446 


NOTES 


' From this cliff could be seen a notch in a distant hill, called 
“ Nick o’ the Doon.” Local tradition has it that from this 
place Meg Merrilies pronounced her curse on Ellangowan. 
A few hundred yards away is the “ Smugglers’ Cave,” with 
a narrow entrance, barely wide enough to admit a man’s 
body, but widening out after about thirty feet to a cave 
sixty feet long and from six to twelve feet high. 

Thus it seems that Scott’s picture is a composite, made 
up of various bits of Galloway scenery, interwoven with the 
deft touch of a master hand at description. 

Opposite Caerlaverock Castle, on the west bank of the 
Solway, is Sweetheart Abbey, named for the Lady Devor- 
gilla, mother of John Baliol, who founded the abbey in 1275, 
and erected a tomb near the high altar. In this tomb, she 
gave orders that her body should be laid at rest with the 
casket containing her husband’s heart, which' she had caused 
to be embalmed at his death in 1269, lying on her breast. 
This abbey, Mr. Olcott thinks, is probably the “ monastic 
ruins ” which Mannering, in the opening chapter, is men- 
tioned as having visited that day. 

At any rate, Scott, who visited Dumfries in 1807, and 
spent several days visiting Sweetheart Abbey, Caerlaverock 
Castle, and other old ruins, retained the name of the faithful 
sweetheart for his story. In Chapter XIII, he has the 
servant who summons Charles Hazlewood to his mother 
say that “ Lady Jean Devorgoil is with her.” 

The student may be interested in Mr. Olcott’s description 
of the castle. 

“ Caerlaverock Castle is one of the most picturesque ruins 
in Scotland. Enough of the original walls remain to show 
the unusual extent of the building. It was triangular in 
form, with two massive round turrets at one angle, forming 
the entrance, and a single turret at each of the others. The 


NOTES 


447 


two entrance turrets and one of the others are still intact 
and well preserved. The turret which once stood at the 
third angle has completely disappeared. Between the front 
towers is a very tall arched doorway, now reached by a little 
wooden bridge over the moat. Many of these old ruins have 
mounds showing where the moat used to be, but this is one 
of the few in which the water still remains. . . . 

“ The inner court was three stories high containing a mag- 
nificent suite of apartments, all richly sculptured. Behind 
these was a great banqueting hall, ninety feet long, ex- 
tending between the two rear towers along the base of the 
triangle.'’ 

Scott’s selection of Westmoreland as the home of Colonel 
Mannering may have been due, Mr. Olcott thinks, to the 
impression made on him during his visit to the Lake Region 
'in 1797. He was particularly impressed with the beauty of 
Skiddaw and Saddleback, parts of the chain of mountains 
extending through the district. 

Scott maps out for Harry Bertram the exact route which 
he himself followed in returning from the Lake Region through 
Cumberland to Gilsland, where Scott met the young lady who 
afterwards became his wife. Mr. Olcott saw in Gilsland a 
neat little store building, which is pointed out as the original 
of “ Mumps’s Ha’,” but found little in either building or 
village to-day to recall Scott’s picture of the place Bertram 
approached. 

1 : Motto. Travels of Will Marvell. The Idler was a 
series of papers edited weekly by Dr. Samuel Johnson from 
April 15, 1758, to April 5, 1760, and published in a news- 
paper called “ The Universal Chronicle.” Most of the 
papers, including the charming account o i the travels of 
Will Marvell (in the issue of March 24, 1759), were written 
by Dr. Johnson. 


448 


NOTES 


7 : Motto. Cantle out. From Henry IV, Part I, III, i, 
97-100. 

7 : 8. Feras consumere nati. Born to kill the wild animals. 

8 : 20. Tempore Caroli primi. In the time of Charles I. 

9 : 11. Argyle’s Rebellion. The Scotch Earl of Argyle 
supported the Duke of Monmouth, illegitimate son of 
Charles II, in an uprising against James II in 1685. Argyle’s 
forces set sail from Holland May 2, 1685, but soon after 
reaching Scotland his men were dispersed and Argyle executed 
on an old charge of treason. 

9 : 19. Cranking in. Henry IV, Part I, III, i, 98. 

10 : 7. Went out with Lord Kenmore. First Stuart up- 
rising in Scotland. After the death of Queen Anne in 1714, 
adherents of the Pretender, son of the banished James II, 
rose in Scotland under the Earl of Mar, but were soon put 
down. This Pretender was the “ bonnie Prince Charlie 
of Scotch song and story. 

10 : 10. Protestant succession. The House of Hanover, 
represented by George I, who succeeded Anne in preference 
to the Catholic Pretender, who was Anne’s half-brother 
and consequently the nearer heir to the throne. — Scylla and 
Charybdis. Scylla is a rock in the Strait of Messina, and 
near it, nearly opposite the entrance of the harbor of Messina 
in Sicily, is the celebrated whirlpool of Charybdis. The an- 
cients represented Scylla as a monster with twelve feet and 
six mouths ; while Charybdis three times each day sucked 
down the water of the sea and threw it up again. Mariners 
shunning one fell prey to the other. 

10 : 19. Cyclops. A race of one-eyed giants found by 
Ulysses in Sicily. The adventures of Ulysses and his com- 
panions in the cave of the Cyclops form one of the most 
interesting passages of the Odyssey. 

12 : 33. Yards. The quadrangles of the college. 


NOTES 449 

13 : 19. Juvenal. A Roman satirical poet of the first 
century a.d. 

14 : 16. Mighty namesake. An allusion to Samson, who 
carried off the gates of the Philistine city of Gaza on his 
shoulders. 

16 : Motto. Genethliacs. Persons versed in the science of 
calculating nativities, or predicting the future events of life 
from the stars which preside at a person’s birth ; an astrologer. 
From genethle (y evtdXrj), birth or origin. Hudibras. This 
quotation is from Samuel Butler’s poem of Hudibras (pub- 
lished 1663), II, iii, 689. 

17 : 22. Trefoil . . . dill. All are plants of supposed medicinal 
and magic value. Trefoil is the common name for many 
plants of the clover family. Vervain is a species of mallow. 
John’s-wort, or St. John’s-wort, belongs to the hypericum 
family. Dill is an annual of the parsley family, the seeds 
being both pungent and aromatic. 

18 : 10. Gae them leg-bail. Ran away. 

19 : 9. Triplicities. In astrology, the division of the signs 
of the zodiac according tq the number of the elements — 
fire, air, earth, and water — each division thus consisting of 
three signs. 

19 : 10. Pythagoras. A Greek philosopher, b.c. 600- 
535. — Hippocrates. A Greek physician, b.c. 468-367. He 
is sometimes called the Father of Medicine. — Diodes. 
Better known as Diocletian, a Roman emperor, 245-313 a.d. 
— Avicenna. An Arabian philosopher, 980-1037 a.d. He 
was a medical authority in Europe from the twelfth to the 
seventeenth century, and also wrote works on astronomy. 

19 : 11. Ab hora questionis. From the moment of birth. 

21 : 33. Heydon and Chambers. John Chambers, canon 
of Windsor, and Sir Christopher Heydon carried on a con- 
troversy on astrology, 1601-4. 

2 G 


450 


NOTES 


23 : Motto. Coleridge, from Schiller. This quotation is 
from Wallenstein’s Death, V, iii, 20-24. 

23 : 4. Secundum artem. According to art or rule ; 
scientifically. 

23 : 11. Prognostications. Foretelling of the future. 

23 : 14. Mars having dignity in the cusp. The planet 
Mars, by taking first place over the other planets in entering 
the twelfth or last sign of the zodiac, would rule the fate of 
the person born at that moment. 

24 : 31. Horoscope. In astrology, a figure of the twelve 
signs of the zodiac, in which is marked the disposition of 
the heavenly bodies at a given time. Fortunes were calcu- 
lated by the placing of the stars at the moment of birth. 

25 : 18. Esplanade. An open space, especially a terrace. 

26 : 2. Ships of Parliament. The Scotch were inclined to 
side with Charles I during his troubles with the Roundheads, 
and on several occasions during the Civil War Parliament 
found it necessary to send forces against the Scotch. 

26 : 13. Sibyl. Woman supposed by the ancients to have 
the gift of prophecy. 

29 : 14. Fair trade. Bringing foreign products into a 
country without paying the government import tax; smug- 
gling. 

29 : 16. Neat cogniac. Pure, unadulterated brandy. — 
Hyson and souchong. Hyson is green tea, souchong black 
tea, both from China. — Mechlin lace. A fine thread lace 
made at Mechlin in Belgium. 

30 : 7. Soi-disant. Self-styled. 

31 : Motto. Fed upon my seignories. From Richard II, 
III, i, 22-27. 

31 : 11. Run out the boltsprit, etc. Bowsprit. A large 
boom or spar projecting over the stern of a vessel to carry 
sail forward. — Mainsail. Principal sail on a ship. — Top- 


NOTES 


451 


sail. In a square-rigged vessel, the sail directly above the 
lowest sail on a mast. — Topgallant. Sail above the topsail. 

— Royals. Small sails immediately above the topgallants. 

— Skyscrapers. Triangular sails next above the royals. 
The whole phrase signifies : “ Get under full sail ! ” 

31 : 19. Concatenation. Succession or order of connected 
things. 

32 : 25. Bows. Farms producing kain, i.e. produce. 

33 : 5. Periapts. Charms worn to protect against disease. 
33 : 6. Apollyon. The angel of the bottomless pit, Rev. ix. 

11. The Dominie probably uses the name as synonymous 
with Satan. 

35 : Motto. Next, the justice. From As You Like It, II, 
vii, 154-158. This is a part of the famous quotation begin- 
ning “ All the world’s a stage.” 

37 : 19. Men of parchment. Voters existing only on paper. 
Cf. straw men. 

38 : 18. Cabal. A name applied to a small group of persons 
united in some close design, usually the promotion of their 
own views in church or state by plotting. 

38 : 33. Consisting ... of law and divinity. Probably 
an allusion to Scott’s unwilling study of the law to please his 
father. 

39 : 9. Poacher. One who hunts or fishes without leave 
on the estate of another. 

39 : 16. L&chesse. Laxness. 

41 : Motto. Come, princes of the ragged regiment. From 

The Beggar's Bush, II, i, 1-5. This is a comedy attributed 
to John Fletcher and others. It was performed at court in 
1622 and published in 1647. — Upright lord. The chief of 
the gypsy regiment. — Jarkman. One that can read and 
write ; hence a clerk. — Patrico. A gypsy priest ; the hedge 
priest of the old ballads. — Cranke. An impostor who pre- 


452 


NOTES 


tended to have epileptic fits, and by putting a piece of white 
soap in the mouth made froth come boiling forth, thus excit- 
ing the pity — and charity — of the beholders. — - Clapper- 
dudgeon. A born beggar, as opposed to the artificial ones. 

— Frater. One with a counterfeit license to beg who went 
about with a wallet at his back to beg for some charitable 
purpose, as a hospital, but in reality for his own selfish ends. 

— Abram-man. One who went about with a sheet around 
his body, as if a corpse, and let his hair grow long to add to 
his weird appearance. By feigning madness, he terrified the 
women and children of the countryside, who would give alms 
to induce him to go away. Shakespeare, in his character of 
Edgar in King Lear , draws an excellent picture of an Abram- 
man. 

43:3. Parias. Pariahs; outcasts from society. 

43 : 15. Halcyon days. Happy, peaceful days. So called 
from the halcyon or kingfisher, which was supposed to lay 
her eggs during the calm days about the winter solstice. 

43 : 18. Bien l’autre. The one does as well as the other. 

43 : 22. Nota bene. Literally, u Note well ” ; hence an 
emphatic warning. 

44 : 9. Poinded. Impounded. 

44 : 26. Impress service. During the eighteenth century 
“ pressgangs ” were on the lookout for likely young fellows, 
who were literally kidnapped and forced to enter the army, 
or, as in this case, the navy. 

46 : Motto. Scenes of Infancy. Written in 1802 by John 
Leyden, 1775-1811. Leyden was a contributor to Scott’s 
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1802-1803. It is related 
that Leyden’s zeal to oblige Scott was so great that he walked 
between forty and fifty miles and back for the sole purpose 
of visiting an old person who had an ancient historical ballad 
which Scott desired. 


NOTES 


453 


47 : 12. Ne moveas Camerinam. Move not Camerina. 
The allusion is to Camerina in Sicily, which was destroyed, for 
disobedience, by its parent city Syracuse. This act led later 
to many disasters. 

49 : 25. Pencil of Calotte. Probably intended for Callot, 
a French engraver of the seventeenth century, who delighted 
in extravagant and grotesque subjects. Lockhart in his Life 
of Scott, IV, 6, quotes Sir Walter apropos the removal to • 
Abbotsford : 

a Our flitting and removal from Ashestiel baffled all de- 
scription ; we had twenty-five cartloads of the veriest trash 
in nature, besides dogs, pigs, ponies, poultry, cows, calves, 
bareheaded wenches, and bare-breeched boys.” In IV, 3, 
Scott’s letter to a friend is quoted to the effect that the 
neighbors had “ been much delighted with the procession 
of my furniture, in which old swords, bows, targets, and 
lances made a very conspicuous show. A family of turkeys 
was accommodated within the helmet of some preux chevalier 
of ancient border fame ; and the very cows, for aught I know, 
were bearing banners and muskets. I assure your ladyship 
that this caravan, attended by a dozen of ragged, rosy peasant 
children, carrying fishing-rods and spears, and leading ponies, 
greyhounds, and spaniels, would, as it crossed the Tweed, 
have furnished no bad subject for the pencil, and really re- 
minded me of one of the gypsy groups of Callot upon their 
march.” This was written in 1812; Guy Mannering was 
written about Christmas, 1814. The connection seems clear. 

61 : 17. Margaret of Anjou. Wife of Henry I of England, 
1429-1481. Henry’s weak character and consequent loss of 
all English possessions in France except Calais brought on 
the War of the Roses. Henry died or was murdered in the 
Tower, their young son was murdered, and Margaret was 
imprisoned for five years. 


454 


NOTES 


52 : Motto. Paint Scotland. From The Author's Earnest 
Cry and Prayer , by Robert Burns, 1759-1796. — Thrissle. 
thistle ; mutchkin, pint ; stoupe, drinking cup ; toom, empty. 

54 : 9. Whitsunday, Candlemas, Martinmas. Church fes- 
tivals marking three of the four term-days on which rents 
were collected in Scotland. Whitsunday, while nominally 
occurring the seventh Sunday after Easter, was fixed in 

• Scotland at May 15. Candlemas fell on February 2 and 
Martinmas November 1 1 . The fourth term-day was Lammas, 
which was observed August 12 in Scotland. 

55 : 13. Stem-chasers. Guns placed in the stern of a 
vessel, pointing backward, for the purpose of keeping off a 
pursuing vessel. 

63 : Motto. But see, his face is black. From Henry VI, 
Part II, III, ii, 168-173. 

64 : 30. Indicia. Signs or indications. 

66 : 27. Footprints . . . measured and examined. Note 
the use made of these measurements in Chapter LV. 

72 : Motto. I, that please some. From The Winter's Tale, 
IV, i, 1-7. 

72 : 15. Precentor. Leader of singing in the church, 
usually the parish clerk. 

73 : 4. Clowns. Country fellows. 

76 : 9. To every guest the appropriate speech was made. 

From The Borough, Part I, stanza 24, written by George 
Crabbe, a clergyman and poet, 1754-1832. Scott seems to 
have been familiar with Crabbe’s works, as he quotes from 
him four times in the course of Guy Mannering. 

83 : Motto. Reputation! that’s man’s idol. From The 
New Inn, IV, iii, 158-166. This play was written by Ben 
Jonson, 1573-1637. While a contemporary of Shakespeare, 
he set himself squarely against the romantic tendencies of the 
age, and fought bravely to restore the classic form of the drama. 


NOTES 


455 


84 : 20. American War. Note how this reference serves 
to fix the time of the action. 

85 : 31. Skiddaw. A mountain in Cumberland, England, 
3054 feet high. 

86 : 16. Would have had me in orders. Wished to make 
a clergyman of me and offered to provide me with a parish. 

86 : 18. Counting-house. A business establishment. 

86 : 19. Lombard Street. A famous business street in 
London. 

89 : 25. Palanquin. A covered carriage borne by means 
of poles resting on the shoulders of bearers. This is the usual 
mode of conveyance for a single passenger in India and other 
oriental countries. 

93 : Motto. They told me, by the sentence. From Venice 
Preserved, I, i, 231-232, 234-239. This play was written in 
1682 by Thomas Otway, one of the Restoration dramatists, 
1652-1685. 

97 : 31. Lintels. Horizontal pieces of wood or stone over 
a door or window to support the weight above. 

100 : Motto. The bell strikes one. This quotation is from 
Night Thoughts , 55-58, a didactic poem by Edward Young, 
1681-1765. This poem, with its gloomy moralizing, was 
popular even into the nineteenth century. 

101 : 27. Homer’s birthplace. 

“ Seven cities strive for Homer dead 
Through which alive he begged his bread.” 

105 : 11. Indian nabobs. The nabob was a deputy or 
viceroy of India under the Mogul empire. Colloquially the 
term was applied to any man of great wealth living in 
luxury. 

106 : Motto. My gold is gone. Stanzas 8 and 9 of the 
old ballad, The Heir of Linne, as found in Percy’s Reliques, 


456 


NOTES 


Vol. II, 138-150. — God’s-pennie. Earnest-money to bind 
the bargain ; from the French “ denier a dieu.” 

109 : Motto. Our Polly is a sad slut. From The Beggar's 
Opera , I, viii, 1-2, 5-6. This musical comedy was written 
by John Gay, 1685-1732, and enjoyed a great popularity. 
It was first acted at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, in London, in 1727. 

110 : 20. Westmoreland. One of the northern shires of 
England on the west coast. Cumberland separates it from 
Scotland on the north. — Devonshire. A shire in south- 
western England. 

110 : 21. Galloway. A shire in southwestern Scotland, 
facing Cumberland across Solway Firth. — Dumfriesshire. 
A border county of Scotland, north and west of Cumberland. 

111 : 9. Flageolet. A small musical wind-instrument 
played on by means of a mouthpiece inserted into a bulb. 

116 : Motto. Heaven first, in its mercy. This is one of 
the many chapter headings scattered through Scott’s works, 
written by himself to fit the occasion when no suitable passage 
presented itself to his mind. 

118 : 9. Salvator. Salvator Rosa, an Italian painter and 
etcher, famous for his painting of wild and savage scenery, 
1615-1673. 

118 : 10. Claude. Claude de Lorrain, a celebrated 
French landscape painter, 1600-1682. 

118 : 21. Beau gargon. Literally “ handsome fellow.” 
Swain or gallant. 

121 : Motto. Talk with a man. From Much Ado about 
Nothing , IV, i, 311. 

123 : 10. Poictiers. One of the famous battles of the 
Hundred Years’ War, fought in 1356. The English under 
the Black Prince won an overwhelming victory over the 
French. — Agincourt. Henry V of England, at the head 
of an army of 15,000, defeated a French army of 50,000 at 


NOTES 


457 


the village of Agincourt, October 25, 1415, after a struggle 
of three hours’ duration. The English loss was 1600, the 
French 10,000. 

129 : 4. Coup de main. A sudden attack or enterprise. 

129 : 15. Rosencrantz and reverend Guildenstern. See 
Shakespeare’s Hamlet, II, ii, 277-304; III, ii, 307-403. 

130 : Motto. Which sloping hills. From Ode on the Ap- 
proach of Summer, lines 295-300, written by Thomas Warton, 
1728-1790. 

134 : Motto. A gigantic genius. Said of Dr. Johnson, by 
Dr. Boswell, an uncle of James Boswell, and quoted in 
the life of Johnson. See Boswell’s Life of Johnson under 
date April 3, 1776. The wording in Boswell is “ A robust 
genius.” 

135 : 6. Empressement. Extreme cordiality ; subservient 
attention. 

138 : Motto. What say’st thou. From The Patron, lines 
186-189. This is the fifth of the Tales, written by George 
Crabbe, 1754-1832. 

140:32. Ci-devant. Former; used of men who have 
been in office and retired. 

144 : Motto. Jog on, jog on. From The Winter’s Tale, IV, 
iii, 132-135. 

145 : 16. Roman Wall. A wall built by the Emperor 
Hadrian during the Roman occupancy of Great Britain to 
keep back the turbulent northern tribes. The wall, which 
was eight feet thick and fifteen feet high, extended from the 
river Tyne, below Newcastle, to Solway Firth on the west 
coast, a distance of seventy-five miles. 

145 : 28. Vauban and Coehorn. The Marquis de Vauban, 
1633-1707, was a famous French military engineer. Baron 
Menno Coehorn, 1641-1704, was a Dutch military engineer 
who reconstructed many fortresses in the Netherlands. 


458 


NOTES 


146 : 10. Hieroglyphical. From hieroglyph, a figure of 
an animal, plant, or other object, intended to convey a word, 
an idea, or a sound. Hence any uncouth scrawl might be 
called hieroglyphical. 

146 : 12. Cabaret — Mumps’s Ha’. It is fitting to explain 
to the reader the locality described in this chapter. There is, 
or rather I should say there was, a little inn, called Mumps’s 
Hall, that is, being interpreted, Beggar’s Hotel, near to Gils- 
land, which had not then attained its present fame as a Spa. 
It was a hedge alehouse, where the Border farmers of either 
country often stopped to refresh themselves and their nags, 
in their way to and from the fairs and trysts in Cumberland, 
and especially those who came from or went to Scotland, 
through a barren and lonely district, without either road or 
pathway, emphatically called the Waste of Bewcastle. At 
the period when the adventures described in the novel are 
supposed to have taken place, there were many instances of 
attacks by the freebooters on those who travelled through 
this wild district, and Mumps’s Ha’ had a bad reputation for 
harboring the banditti who committed such depredations. 

An old and sturdy yeoman belonging to the Scottish side, 
by surname an Armstrong or Elliot, but well known by his 
soubriquet of Fighting Charlie of Liddesdale, and still re- 
membered for the courage he displayed in the frequent frays 
which took place on the Border fifty or sixty years since, had 
the following adventure in the Waste, which suggested the 
idea of the scene in the text : 

Charlie had been at Stagshaw-bank fair, had sold his sheep 
or cattle, or whatever he had brought to market, and was on 
his return to Liddesdale. There were then no country banks 
where cash could be deposited, and bills received instead, 
which greatly encouraged robbery in that wild country, as 
the objects of plunder were usually fraught with gold. The 


NOTES 


459 


robbers had spies in the fair, by means of whom they gen- 
erally knew whose purse was best stocked, and who took 
a lonely and desolate road homeward, — those, in short, 
who would be worth robbing, and likely to be most easily 
robbed. 

All this Charlie knew full well ; but he had a pair of ex- 
cellent pistols, and a dauntless heart. He stopped at Mumps’s 
Ha’, notwithstanding the evil character of the place. His 
horse was accommodated where it might have the necessary 
rest and feed of corn ; and Charlie himself, a dashing fellow, 
grew gracious with the landlady, a buxom quean, who used 
all the influence in her power to induce him to stop all night. 
The landlord was from home, she said, and it was ill passing 
the Waste, as twilight must needs descend on him before he 
gained the Scottish side, which was reckoned the safest. But 
Fighting Charlie, though he suffered himself to be detained 
later than was prudent, did not account Mumps’s Ha’ a safe 
place to quarter in during the night. He tore himself away, 
therefore, from Meg’s good fare and kind words, and mounted 
his nag, having first examined his pistols, and tried by the 
ramrod whether the charge remained in them. 

He proceeded a mile or two, at a round trot, when, as the 
Waste stretched black before him, apprehensions began to 
awaken in his mind, partly arising out of Meg’s unusual kind- 
ness, which he could not help thinking had rather a suspicious 
appearance. He, therefore, resolved to reload his pistols, 
lest the powder had become damp ; but what was his surprise, 
when he drew the charge, to find neither powder nor ball, 
while each barrel had been carefully filled with tow, up to 
the space which the loading had occupied ! and, the priming 
of the weapons being left untouched, nothing but actually 
drawing and examining the charge could have discovered the 
inefficiency of his arms till the fatal minute arrived when 


460 


NOTES 


their services were required. Charlie bestowed a hearty 
Liddesdale curse on his landlady, and reloaded his pistols 
with care and accuracy, having now no doubt that he was to 
be waylaid and assaulted. He was not far engaged in the 
Waste, which was then, and is now, traversed only by such 
routes as are described in the text, when two or three fellows, 
disguised and variously armed, started from a moss-hag, 
while, by a glance behind him (for, marching, as the Spaniard 
says, with his beard on his shoulder, he reconnoitred in every 
direction), Charlie instantly saw retreat was impossible, as 
other two stout men appeared behind him at some distance. 
The Borderer lost not a moment in taking his resolution, and 
boldly trotted against his enemies in front, who called loudly 
on him to stand and deliver; Charlie spurred on, and pre- 
sented his pistol. “ D — n your pistol,” cried the foremost 
robber ; whom Charlie to his dying day protested he believed 
to have been the landlord of Mumps’s Ha’. “ D — n your 
pistol ! I care not a curse for it.” — “ Ay, lad,” said the deep 
voice of Fighting Charlie, “ but the tow’s out now.” He had 
no occasion to utter another word ; the rogues, surprised at 
finding a man of redoubted courage well armed, instead of 
being defenceless, took to the moss in every direction, and 
he passed on his way without further molestation. 

The author has heard this story told by persons who re- 
ceived it from Fighting Charlie himself ; he has also heard 
that Mumps’s Ha’ was afterwards the scene of some other 
atrocious villainy, for which the people of the house suffered. 
But these are all tales of at least half a century old, and the 
Waste has been for many years as safe as any place in the 
kingdom. — Scott’s Note. 

151 : 6. Half a mutchkin. Half a pint. 

152 : Motto. Gallows and knock. From The Winter’s 
Tale, IV, iii, 28. 


NOTES 


461 


152 : 15. Pagoda. A sacred temple or tower, usually 
pyramidal in shape, common in the Orient. 

161 : Motto. Liddell till now. These lines occur in 
Book III, 77-81, of The Art of Preserving Health, a didactic 
poem by John Armstrong, 1709-1779. 

161 : 22. Landloupers. Vagabonds, vagrants. 

162 : 32. Caprioles. Capers, or sportive leaps, as of a goat. 

163 : 4. Chirurgery. Obsolete name for surgery. 

163 : 7. Vulnerary. Useful in healing wounds. 

163:31. Four-hours scones. Thin cakes served at the 

four-hours, or light meal served between dinner and supper, 
usually at four o’clock. 

164 : 30. Bannocks. Cakes made of a coarse meal and 
baked on a griddle. 

165 : 11. Coxcomb. The head. 

166 : Motto. Give ye, Britons, then. Lines 471-475 of 
Autumn, from The Seasons, by James Thomson, 1700-1748. 
Thomson, while adhering to some of the artificialities of the 
classical school, was a forerunner in subject matter of the 
nature writers of the later romantic school. 

166 : 17. Doddered. Infirm or shaking with age. 

176 : Motto. If thou hast any love. From Ethwald, a 
poetic drama by Joanna Baillie, Part Two, II, 2, 48-49. 
Miss Baillie, while only a very minor writer of Scott’s 
day, won high approval from Scott, who met her in London 
in 1804. When Marmion appeared in 1808, it contained the 
following tribute to two of Miss Baillie’s plays, De Monfort, 
and Count Basil : 

“ Till Avon’s swans, while rung the grove 
With Monfort’s hate and Basil’s love, 

Awakening at the inspired strain, 

Deemed their own Shakespeare lived again.” 


462 


NOTES 


177 : 9. Seven-fold shield of Ajax. Ajax was one of the 
Grecian heroes in the siege of Troy. The Iliad gives a long 
account of his wonderful shield, arranged in overlapping 
layers or folds. 

177 : 32 . Ignis fatuus. Meteoric light ; Jack-o’-lantern. 
(Latin ignis, fire, and fatuus, foolish.) 

180 : 26. Gypsy Superstitions. The mysterious rites in 
which Meg Merrilies is described as engaging belong to her 
character as queen of her race. All know that gypsies in 
every country claim acquaintance with the gift of fortune- 
telling ; but, as is often the case, they are liable to the super- 
stitions of which they avail themselves in others. The corre- 
spondent of Blackwood, quoted in the Introduction of this Tale, 
gives us some information on the subject of their credulity. 

“ I have ever understood,” he says, speaking of the Yet- 
holm gypsies, “ that they are extremely superstitious — - 
carefully noticing the formation of the clouds, the flight of 
particular birds, and the soughing of the winds, before at- 
tempting any enterprise. They have been known for several 
successive days to turn back with their loaded carts, asses, 
and children, on meeting with persons whom they considered 
of unlucky aspect ; nor do they ever proceed on their summer 
peregrinations without some propitious omen of their fortu- 
nate return. They also burn the clothes of their dead, not 
so much from any apprehension of infection being communi- 
cated by them, as the conviction ‘that the very circumstance 
of wearing them would shorten the days of their living. They 
likewise carefully watch the corpse by night and day till the 
time of interment, and conceive that ‘ the deil tinkles at the 
lyke-wake ’ of those who felt in their dead-thraw the agonies 
and terrors of remorse.” 

These notions are not peculiar to the gypsies ; but having 
been once generally entertained among the Scottish common 


NOTES 


463 


people, are now only found among those who are the most 
rude in their habits, and most devoid of instruction. The 
popular idea, that the protracted struggle between life and 
death is painfully prolonged by keeping the door of the apart- 
ment shut, was received as certain by the superstitious eld 
of Scotland. But neither was it to be thrown wide open. 
To leave the door ajar, was the plan adopted by the old 
crones who understood the mysteries of deathbeds and lyke- 
wakes. In that case, there was room for the imprisoned 
spirit to escape ; and yet an obstacle, we have been assured, 
was offered to the entrance of any frightful form which might 
otherwise intrude itself. The threshold of a habitation was 
in some sort a sacred limit, and the subject of much super- 
stition. A bride, even to this day, is always lifted over it, a 
rule derived apparently from the Romans. — Scott’s Note. 

184 : Motto. Nor board nor garner. From The Chough 
and Crow, stanza 3, written by Joanna Baillie. 

192 : Motto. All school-day’s friendship, childhood in- 
nocence. From Midsummer Night’s Dream, III, ii, 202-208. 

195 : Motto. I renounce your defiance. From The Merry 
Devil of Edmonton, as given in Dodsley’s Old English Plays, 
edited by W. Carew Hazlitt, Vol. X, page 261. The play, 
which is anonymous, was acted by the King’s Men at the 
Globe in 1607. Fleay believes the play was originally called 
Sir John Oldcastle, and was written by Michael Drayton, 
1563-1631, for the Chamberlain’s Men before 1597. 

Scott “ edited ” his passage, as he seems to have done 
with several of his other quotations. The full passage follows : 

“ I renounce your defiance ; if you parley so roughly, I’ll 
barricado my gates against you. Stand fair, bully; priest, 
come off from the rearward. What can you say now ? ’Twas 
done in my house. I have shelter in the court for’t. Do 
you see yon bay-window? I serve the good Duke of Nor- 


464 


NOTES 


folk, and ’tis his lodging. Storm, I care not, serving the 
good Duke of Norfolk.” 

201 : Motto. Here’s a good world! From King John, II, 
iii, 116-117. 

203 : 8. Curling. A popular winter sport in Scotland. 
Contending parties slide smooth stones, furnished with 
handles, along the ice from one mark to another, called the 
tee. 

207 : Motto. A man may see. From King Lear, IV, vi, 
151-158. 

216 : 4. Poschay. 3 Postchaise. 

216 : 22. Golden opinions, etc. See Macbeth, I, vii, 32-36: 

“ He hath honored me of late; and I have bought 
Golden opinions from all sorts of people, 

Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, 

Not cast aside so soon.” 

217 : Motto. A man that apprehends. From Shake- 
speare’s Measure for Measure, IV, ii, 149-152. 

217 : 19. Vis Publica et Privata. “ Violence, Public and 
Private.” Glossin orders his clerk to open a law book at the 
part bearing on the offence he expects to have to pass upon. 

218 : 13. Broom. Warrant for the apprehension of some- 
one (dialect). 

218 : 28. Quartern. A fourth of a British pint ; one gill. 
— Quartern of Hollands. A gill of gin made in Holland. 

223 : 8. Say that he walks. Hatteraick refers to the story 
current in the countryside that the spirit of the murdered 
Kennedy appears at the scene of the struggle. 

223 : 20. An unco dust about it. A great disturbance over 
it. 

227 : Motto. Why dost not comfort me. From Titus 
Andronicus, II, iii, 209-210. 


NOTES 


465 


236 : Motto. You are one of those. From Othello , I, i, 
108-110. 

240 : 16. Singleside, etc. Observe the humor in Scott’s 
choice of names for the old maid’s farms. 

240 : 28. Let down a steek. Drop a stitch. In other 
words, Glossin may intentionally leave a weak place in the 
legal papers he draws up in the hope of profiting by future 
lawsuits arising therefrom. 

242 : Motto. Give me a cup of sack. From Henry IV, 
Part I, II, iv, 422-423. 

242 : 18. Chairman. Bearer of a sedan chair, who would 
know his way about the city. 

245 : 27. Hebdomadal. Weekly. (Latin, hebdomas ; 
Greek, e/35o/xds, a number of seven, a week, from errrct, 
seven.) 

247 : 2. Second Justinian. Justinian was a Byzantine 
emperor, 527-565 a.d., who caused the Roman law to be 
codified. The principles of the Civil Law were embodied in 
the Code, containing twelve books of statutes, the Digest, 
which summarized the opinions of the most learned lawyers, 
and the Institutes , a treatise on law for the use of students. 

247 : 8. Heralds. In mediaeval times, thp herald was an 
officer whose business it was to conduct royal ceremonies. 

247 : 9. Pursuivants. Attendants upon a herald. (French 
poursuivre, to follow after.) — Lyon, etc. References to at- 
tendants upon bygone Scottish kings. The whole is for the 
purpose of sustaining the supposed kingly character of Pley- 
dell. 

248 : 18. Jean Logies, etc. Favorites of Scottish kings. 
See note above. 

248 : 22. Like a second Charles V. Emperor of Germany 
and King of Spain, 1500-1558. At the height of his power 
he abdicated his throne and withdrew to a monastery. 

2 H 


466 


NOTES 


248 : 32. Bacchanal. An attendant upon Bacchus, god 
of wine and revelry. The Bacchanals were noted for the 
frenzied abandon with which they gave themselves up to 
their revels. 

249 : 27. Play his ain spring first. Tell his own story or 
present his own business first. 

262 : Motto. But this poor farce. From The Parish 
Register, Part III, 270-271, 276-279. This poem was written 
in 1807 by George Crabbe, an English author, born 1754, 
died 1832. 

263 : 19. Interregnum. The time during which a throne 
is vacant, between the death or abdication of one ruler and 
the accession of his successor. 

264 : 9. Caledonian Vandyke. Vandyke was a famous 
Flemish portrait painter, 1599-1641. Caledonia was an 
ancient name for Scotland. 

266 : 2. Magnum. Bottle twice the ordinary size. 

266 : 8. Died well . . . the world. Died plentifully sup- 
plied with this world’s goods. Cf. the Americanism well 

off- 

266 : 17. Propinquity to the defunct. Relationship to the 
deceased person. 

267 : 4. Batons. Badges of mourning. 

267 : 31. Dog-cattle. A contemptuous reference to the 
sorry steeds drawing the hired coaches of the mourners. 

268 : Motto. Die and endow a college. From Moral 
Essays, Epistle III, line 96. These Essays were poetical 
satires, modelled after Horace, and were the work of Alexander 
Pope, 1688-1744. 

269 : 22. Homme d’affaires. Man of affairs ; person in 
charge. 

269 : 29. Cribbage. A card game in which the dealer 
counts toward his score the cards of his own hand, those of 


NOTES 


467 


the crib, consisting of two thrown from the hand of each 
player, and a turned card. 

260 : 4. Rappee. A kind of coarse snuff. 

260 : 7. Buckskins. Breeches of fine leather, much af- 
fected by the eighteenth century dandies. 

261 : 12. Mortis causa settlement. A settlement in view 
of the approaching death of the owner. 

262 : 13. Sir Toby Belch. A character in Shakespeare’s 
Twelfth Night. 

266 : 3. Buck of the second head. Buck was a name ap- 
plied to a gay young man about town in the eighteenth 
century. Second-head, first-head are sporting terms, referring 
to the quality of the animal killed in chase. A buck of the 
first head was a male deer having grown its first set of antlers. 

265 : 11. Wear the jacket. Become a rider of racing 
horses for some nobleman. This was an honor much coveted 
by the young “ bloods.” 

269 : Motto. I am going to the parliament. From The 

Little French Lawyer , II, ii, 87-90. This was a comedy by 
John Fletcher and Philip Massinger, written about 1620 and 
printed in 1647. 

269 : 13. Have his pineapple at wholesale. Pineapples 
were new and hence a luxury/ Pleydell regards Dandie’s 
suit as an expensive luxury, but will try it for him as cheaply 
as possible. 

270 : 27. Noddle. The head. (Used in humorous sense.) 
— Harridan. A sharp-tongued old woman. 

272 : 11. In praesentia. Present. 

277 : Motto. Can no rest find me. From Women Pleased, 
IV, i, 70-73. This play was first acted about 1619, printed 
in 1647. It was probably written by John Fletcher, 1579- 
1625, though by some critics thought to be by Beaumont 
and Fletcher. 


468 


NOTES 


285 : Motto. Yes, ye moss-green walls. From The Mys- 
terious Mother , a poetic drama by Horace Walpole, published 
in 1781. The passage quoted comprises lines 86 to 91 in- 
clusive, in Act II, scene 1. Horace Walpole is best known by 
his romantic tale, The Castle of Otranto , printed in 1764. 

286 : 2. Wolf couchant. A wolf lying down with the head 
raised. 

286 : 4. A salvage man proper, etc. A savage, represented 
in natural colors, crowned with a wreath and wearing a girdle. 

294 : Motto. Bring in the evidence. From King Lear, III, 
vi, 37-40. 

297 : 30. Roturier. Plebeian ; peasant ; referring to Glossin. 

299 : 14. Ex cathedra. From the chair of authority. 

299 : 22. Acromion process. The outer point of the 
shoulderblade to which the collar-bone is attached. 

301 : Motto. Twas he gave heat unto the injury. From 
The Fair Maid of the Inn, a posthumous comedy by John 
Fletcher, finished by Massinger and licensed in 1626. The 
passage occurs II, i, 14-18. It was printed in 1647. 

307 : 11. Solecism. A violation of the rules of society; 
applied here to the plebeian Sir Robert’s horror of committing 
any offence against a person of rank or position. 

311 : Motto. Inscription on Edinburgh Tolbooth. The 
Tolbooth was the city prison at Edinburgh. It was prob- 
ably the same “ Tolbooth ” made famous by Scott in The 
Heart of Midlothian. 

316 : 24. Elephant passant. An elephant walking on 
three legs with the right foot uplifted. (In heraldry.) 

317 : 30. Collops. Slices or lumps of meat. 

318 : 17. Newgate Calendar. A book containing an ac- 
count of the offences and executions of criminals confined in 
the famous Newgate Prison in London — cheerful reading 
for an imprisoned man ! 


NOTES 


469 


319 : Motto. But if thou shouldst. This is stanza 11 of 
the narrative poem, Jemmy Dawson , by William Shenstone, 
1714—1763. Scott has altered the lines, which read : 

* ‘ But though he should be dragged in scorn 
To yonder ignominious tree, 

He shall not want one constant friend 
To share the cruel fate’s decree.” 

320 : 28. Lang-lugged. Long-eared ; curious. 

323 : 14. Set up her throat. Made an outcry ; protested. 

327 : Motto. Say from whence. From Macbeth , I, iii, 76- 
80. 

331 : 16. conjuro te. I implore thee — most infamous — 
most vile — most unclean — most harmful. 

334 : 5. Malefica. Evil-doer. 

334 : 12. Eye of newt, etc. An allusion to the contents 
of the witches’ caldron in Macbeth. The newt is a species 
of small lizard. 

337 : Motto. It is not madness. From Hamlet , III, iv, 
141-144. 

337 : 19. Exorciso. I drive thee away. 

348 : Motto. Old Border Ballad. This is stanza 34 of Kin- 
mont Willie, as given in Gummere’s Old English Ballads. 

356 : Motto. The night drave on. From Tam o’ Shanter, 
lines 45-46. This is one of the best known of Burns’s poems. 

357 : 11. On n’arrete pas. One does not stop on such a 
charming road. 

358 : 17. Prospero. A character in Shakespeare’s Tempest, 
who practises his magic arts on those around. In the end he 
casts away his arts to return to Milan, where he is the right- 
ful duke. The allusion here is to The Tempest , V, i, 56-57 : 

“ And deeper than did ever plummet sound 
I’ll drown my book.” 


470 


NOTES 


358 : 18. Plummet. A long piece of lead attached to a 
line, used in sounding the depth of water. 

359 : 13. Cumaean sibyl. The wise woman consulted by 
yEneas before his descent into the lower world (AZneid, VI, 
10). It was she who sold Tarquin the Proud the Sibylline 
Books. 

363 : 12. Eclat. Splendor ; show ; pomp. 

364 : Motto. Justice. This does indeed confirm. From 
The Critic, III, i, 47-52. This comedy was written in 1779 
by Richard Brinsley Sheridan, 1751-1816. Other well- 
known plays by Sheridan are The Rivals , The Duenna, and 
The School for Scandal. 

368 : 12. Vocaris. “ Or by whatever other name you are 
called.” 

371 : 24. But verbum volens. Merely a pleasant word. 

371 : 25. Nolens volens. Willing or unwilling. 

373 : 32. Heir of tailzie. Heir by the law of entail, which 
fixes the settlement of landed estate on a particular line or 
succession in such a way that none of them can alienate it 
by his own act. 

374 : 2. Lewis, the entailer. See Chapter II, page 10. 

375 : 22. Enfant trouve. Recovered child. 

375 : 25. Clarence’s fate. The Duke of Clarence was 
reputed to have met his death by being drowned in a butt 
of Malmsey wine. 

377 : Motto. My imagination. From All's Well That Ends 
Well, I, i, 93-96. 

379 : 16. Houyhnhnm laugh. In Gulliver's Travels, the 
Houyhnhnms are a race of wonderful horses, endowed with 
the power of reason, and having the Yahoos, a race of brutes 
with the form and degrading passions of man, as their servants. 
The reference is of course to the volume of sound in the 
Dominie’s laugh. 


NOTES 


471 


380 : 14. suum cuique tribuito. I give to each his due. 

385 : 24. Cressy. The English won a famous victory 
near the village of Crecy in 1346, when the English longbow 
with its clothyard shaft enabled a small force to put to flight 
a much larger French force. 

387 : Motto. And, Sheriff, I will engage. From Henry IV, 
Part I, II, iv, 563-566. 

389 : 4. Sui juris. Of his own right; restored to his full 
rights as enjoyed before he was arrested. 

389 : 6. Rectus in curia. Upright in court ; cleared of all 
charges. 

389:31. Probation. Proof. 

396 : Motto. The Marriage of Sir Gawaine. This quo- 
tation includes lines 101-108 of the poem as given in Percy’3 
Reliques, Vol. Ill, pages 13-24. According to Percy, it is 
taken chiefly from fragments of an old ballad believed by 
the editor to be more ancient than the time of Chaucer, and 
to have furnished the material for The Wife of Bath’s Tale. 

406 : Motto. Die, prophet! From Henry VI, Part III, 
V, vi, 57-58. 

411 : Motto. For though, seduced. From The Hall of 
Justice, stanza 24, written by George Crabbe. 

412 : 8. Himsell, returned, etc. Meg evidently mistakes 
the presence of young Hazlewood for the spirit of the mur- 
dered Kennedy. 

421 : Motto. How like a hateful ape. From Count Basil, 
V, 3, 90-93. This is one of Miss Baillie’s Plays of the Passions , 
to which Ethwald and De Monfort also belonged. It was 
printed in 1798, but was never acted. 

422 : 14. Dogberry. One of the two ridiculous constables 
in Much Ado about Nothing. 

422 : 16. Measuring some footsteps. Observe the use 
here made of evidence collected in Chapter X. 


472 


NOTES 


424 : 4. Regis ad exemplar. In the manner of the king. 

424 : 16. Voceris. Do not enter into a consultation before 
you are asked. 

426 : 13. Godfrey Bertram Hewit. Scott seems to drag 
this character into the story first to discredit Glossin, and 
later to help fix the identity of Harry Bertram. 

431 : Motto. Unfit to live. From Measure for Measure , 
IV, iii, 68-69. Scott’s memory has tricked him. The line 
reads : 

“Unfit to live or die — O gravel heart !” 

438 : Motto. To sum the whole. Jonathan Swift, 1667- 
1745, was a voluminous writer of both prose and verse. His 
sarcastic wit made him a terror to all classes that incurred 
his displeasure. Gulliver's Travels is his best known prose 
work. His verse, though filling two large volumes, is ephem- 
eral in nature, and marred by an almost brutal coarseness 
and savage sarcasm. He died insane. 

440 : 20. Multa sunt. Many things in death laws are 
inconsistent ; many unreasonable. — Cajucius. Jacques Cu- 
jas, jurist, 1522-1590, authority in law. 

441 : 16. Post-nati. The later born ; the younger genera- 
tion. 

442:5. Et puis? And then? 

ADDITIONAL NOTE 

Galwegian Localities and Personages which have 

BEEN SUPPOSED TO BE ALLUDED TO IN THE NOVEL 

An old English proverb says, that more know Tom Fool 
than Tom Fool knows ; and the influence of the adage seems 
to extend to works composed under the influence of an idle 
or foolish planet. Many corresponding circumstances are 


NOTES 


473 


detected by readers, of which the. author did not suspect the 
existence. He must, however, regard it as a great compli- 
’ ment, that in detailing incidents purely imaginary, he has 
been so fortunate in approximating reality, as to remind his 
readers of actual occurrences. It is therefore with pleasure 
he notices some pieces of local history and tradition, which 
have been supposed to coincide with the fictitious persons, 
incidents, and scenery of Guy Mannering. 

The prototype of Dirk Hatteraick is considered as having 
been a Dutch skipper called Yawkins. This man was well 
known on the coast of Galloway and Dumfriesshire, as sole 
proprietor and master of a Buckkar, or smuggling lugger, 
.called the Black Prince. Being distinguished by his nautical 
skill and intrepidity, his vessel was frequently freighted, and 
his own services employed, by French, Dutch, Manx, and 
Scottish smuggling companies. 

A person well known by the name of Buckkar-tea, from 
having been a noted smuggler of that article, and also by 
that of Bogle-Bush, the place of his residence, assured my 
kind informant, Mr. Train, that he had frequently seen 
upwards of two hundred Lingtow-men assemble at one time, 
and go off into the interior of the country, fully laden with 
contraband goods. 

In those halcyon days of the free trade, the fixed price for 
carrying a box of tea, or bale of tobacco, from the coast of 
Galloway to Edinburgh, was fifteen shillings, and a man with 
two horses carried four such packages. The trade was en- 
tirely destroyed by Mr. Pitt’s celebrated commutation law, 
which, by reducing the duties upon excisable articles, enabled 
the lawful dealer to compete with the smuggler. The statute 
was called in Galloway and Dumfriesshire, by those who had 
thriven upon the contraband trade, “ the burning and starv- 
ing act.” 


474 


NOTES 


Sure of such active assistance on shore, Yawkins demeaned 
himself so boldly, that his mere name was a terror to the 
officers of the revenue. He availed himself of the fears which 
his presence inspired on one particular night, when, happening 
to be ashore with a considerable quantity of goods in his sole 
custody, a strong party of excisemen came down on him. 
Far from shunning the attack, Yawkins sprung forward, 
shouting, “ Come on, my lads; Yawkins is before you.” 
The revenue officers were intimidated, and relinquished their 
prize, though defended only by the courage and address of a 
single man. On his proper element, Yawkins was equally 
successful. On one occasion, he was landing his cargo at the 
Manxman’s lake, near Kirkcudbright, when two revenue, 
cutters (the Pigmy and the Dwarf ) hove in sight at once on 
different tacks, the one coming round by the Isles of Fleet, 
the other between the point of Rueberry and the Muckle 
Ron. The dauntless freetrader instantly weighed anchor, 
and bore down right between the luggers, so close that he 
tossed his hat on the deck of the one, and his wig on that of 
the other, hoisted a cask to his maintop, to show his occupa- 
tion, and bore away under an extraordinary pressure of 
canvas, without receiving injury. To account for these and 
other hair-breadth escapes, popular superstition alleged that 
Yawkins insured his celebrated Buckkar by compounding 
with the devil for one tenth of his crew every voyage. How 
they arranged the separation of the stock and tithes, is left 
to our conjecture. The Buckkar was perhaps called the 
Black Prince in honor of the formidable insurer. 

The Black Prince used to discharge her cargo at Luce, 
Balcarry, and elsewhere on the coast; but her owner’s 
favorite landing-places were at the entrance to the Dee 
and the Cree, near the old Castle of Rueberry, about six 
miles below Kirkcudbright. There is a cave of large di- 


NOTES 


475 


mensions in the vicinity of Rueberry, which, from its being 
frequently used by Yawkins, and his supposed connection 
with the smugglers on the shore, is now called Dirk Hatter- 
aick’s cave. Strangers who visit this place, the scenery of 
which is highly romantic, are also shown, under the name 
of the Gauger’s Loup, • a tremendous precipice, being the 
same, it is asserted, from which Kennedy was precipitated. 

Meg Merrilies is in Galloway considered as having had her 
origin in the traditions concerning the celebrated Flora 
Marshal, one of the royal consorts of Willie Marshal, more 
commonly called the Caird of Barullion, King of the Gypsies 
of the Western Lowlands. That potentate was himself de- 
serving of notice, from the following peculiarities. He was 
born in the parish of Kirkmichael, about the year 1671 ; and 
as he died at Kirkcudbright, 23d November, 1792, he must 
then have been in the one hundred and twentieth year of his 
age. It cannot be said that this unusually long lease of 
existence was noted by any peculiar excellence of conduct or 
habits of life. Willie had been pressed or enlisted in the 
army seven times ; and had deserted as often ; besides three 
times running away from the naval service. He had been 
seventeen times lawfully married ; and besides such a reason- 
ably large share of matrimonial comforts, was, after his 
hundredth year, the avowed father of four children, by less 
legitimate affections. He subsisted in his extreme old age 
by a pension from the present Earl of Selkirk’s grandfather. 
Will Marshal is buried in Kirkcudbright Church, where his 
monument is still shown, decorated with a scutcheon suitably 
blazoned with two tups’ horns and two cutty spoons. 

In his youth he occasionally took an evening walk on the 
highway, with the purpose of assisting travellers by relieving 
them of the weight of their purses. On one occasion, the 
Caird of Barullion robbed the Laird of Bargally, at a place 


476 


NOTES 


between Carsphairn and Dalmellington. His purpose was 
not achieved without a severe struggle, in which the Gypsy 
lost his bonnet, and was obliged to escape, leaving it on the 
road. A respectable farmer happened to be the next pas- 
senger, and seeing the bonnet, alighted, took it up, and rather 
imprudently put it on his own head. At this instant, Bar- 
gally came up with some assistants, and recognizing the 
bonnet, charged the farmer of Bantoberick with having 
robbed him, and took him into custody. There being some 
likeness between the parties, Bargally persisted in his charge, 
and though the respectability of the farmer’s character was 
proved or admitted, his trial before the Circuit Court came 
on accordingly. The fatal bonnet lay on the table of the 
court ; Bargally swore that it was the identical article worn 
by the man who robbed him ; and he and others likewise 
deponed that they had found the accused on the spot where 
the crime was committed, with the bonnet on his head. The 
case looked gloomily for the prisoner, and the opinion of the 
judge seemed unfavorable. But there was a person in the 
court who knew well both who did, and who did not, commit 
the crime. This was the Caird of Barullion, who, thrusting 
himself up to the bar, near the place where Bargally was 
standing, suddenly seized on the bonnet, put it on his head, 
and looking the Laird full in the face, asked him, with a voice 
which attracted the attention of the Court and crowded 
audience — “ Look at me, sir, and tell me, by the oath you 
have sworn — Am not I the man who robbed you between 
Carsphairn and Dalmellington? ” Bargally replied, in great 
astonishment, “By Heaven! you are the very man.’’ — 
“ You see what sort of memory this gentleman has,” said the 
volunteer pleader; “he swears to the bonnet, whatever 
features are under it. If you yourself, my Lord, will put it 
on your head, he will be willing to swear that your Lordship 


NOTES 


477 


was the party who robbed him between Carsphairn and Dal- 
mellington.” The tenant of Bantoberick was unanimously 
acquitted, and thus Willie Marshal ingeniously contrived to 
save an innocent man from danger, without incurring any 
himself, since Bargally’s evidence must have seemed to every 
one too fluctuating to be relied upon. 

While the King of the Gypsies was thus laudably occupied, 
his royal consort, Flora, contrived, it is said, to steal the 
hood from the Judge’s gown; for which offence, combined 
with her presumptive guilt as a gypsy, she was banished to 
New England, whence she never returned. 

Now, I cannot grant that the idea of Meg Merrilies was, 
in the first concoction of the character, derived from Flora 
Marshal, seeing I have already said she was identified with 
Jean Gordon, and as I have not the Laird of Bargally’s 
apology for charging the same fact on two several individuals. 
Yet I am quite content that Meg should be considered as a 
representative of her sect and class in general — Flora, as 
well as others. 

The other instances in which my Gallovidian readers have 
obliged me, by assigning to 

Airy nothing 

A local habitation and a name, 

shall also be sanctioned so far as the Author may be entitled 
to do so. I think the facetious Joe Miller records a case 
pretty much in point ; where the keeper of a Museum, while 
showing, as he said, the very sword with which Balaam was 
about to kill his ass, was interrupted by one of the visitors, 
who reminded him that Balaam was not possessed of ?, sword, 
but only wished for one. “ True, sir,” replied the ready- 
witted Cicerone; “but this is the very sword he wished 


478 


NOTES 


for.” The Author, in application of this story, has only to 
add, that though ignorant of the coincidence between the 
fictions of the tale and some real circumstances, he is con- 
tented to believe he must unconsciously have thought or 
dreamed of the last, while engaged in the composition of 
Guy Mannering. — Scott’s Note. 


GLOSSARY OP WORDS, PHRASES, 
AND ALLUSIONS 


’A, he, I 

Ablins, aiblins, perhaps 
Aboulfouaris. See The 
Monastery, Appendix : Au- 
thor’s answer to Captain 
Clutterbuck 
Abune, above 
Ae, one 

Afterhend, afterwards 
A-guisarding, New Year’s 
mumming 
Ahint, behind 
Aik, oak 
Ain, own 

Ance errand, for the very 
purpose 

Anti-burgher, a Presbyterian 
sect who refused to take the 
burgess oath 

A secretis, as private secre- 
tary 

Atweel, very well 
Auld threep, an old super- 
stition, obstinately persisted 

in 


Aut quocunque alio nomine 
vocaris, or by whatever 
other name you are called 
Aweel, well 
Awmous, alms 

Ballant, ballad, song 
Ban, revile, rail at 
Barken, clot, harden 
Barkers and slashers, pis- 
tols and cutlasses 
Barrow-tram, raw-boned, 
awkward fellow 
Baulk, ridge, bank 
Bedral, sexton 
BeRLING, BERLIN, Sort of 
galley or boat 

Bested, sair, in a sad way, 
sad condition 

Bezaleel. He designed and 
executed the works of art 
for the Tabernacle. See 
Exodus xxxi. 1-6 
Bide, bidden, remain, wait, 
stay, live 


479 


480 


GLOSSARY 


Bield, shelter 

Big, bigg, build ; biggit wa's, 
built walls 

Bilboes, a long iron bar with 
sliding shackles, in which 
the legs of prisoners were 
confined. It was used chiefly 
on shipboard. 

Billie, young man, jolly 
comrade 

Bing out and tour, go out 
and watch 
Binna, be not 
Birk, birch, twig 
Birling, drinking in company 
Birth, an obsolete form of 
“berth/’ situation 
Bittle, or beetle, a wooden 
mallet for beating washed 
clothes 

Bittock, a little bit 
Black Acts, the laws of 
necromancy or magic 
Black-fishing, salmon-spear- 
ing by night during the 
close season 

Black Peter, portmanteau. 

Cf. To rob Peter to pay Paul 
Blate, shy, abashed 
Blearing your ee, blinding 
your eye by flattery 
Blumeng arten, flower- 
garden 


Blunker, calico-printer 
Boddle, small Scotch copper 
coin 

Bogle, bogie, ghost 
Bona Dea, the special god- 
dess of women amongst the 
ancient Romans 
Bonspiel, match at curling 
Bottle-head, a stupid fellow 
Bought so many brooms, 
got so many warrants out 
Bourtree, elder tree 
Bow, boll 

Bowl o’ a pint stoup, the 
handle of a pint flagon, 
than which, as the Scottish 
proverb infers, there is 
nothing comes more readily 
to the grasp 

Bragged wi’, reproached, up- 
braided by 
Brigg, bridge 
Brock, badger 

Brod, a church collecting- 
plate 

Buirdly, stout, well made 
Bully-huff, boasting bully 
Bye, besides 

Ca’, ca’d, call, called 
Cabaret, tavern 
Cadie, or caddie, messenger, 
errand man or boy 


GLOSSARY 


Cake -house, house of enter- 
tainment, where cakes were 
sold 

Caliph Vathek, an Arabian 
tale by W. Beckford (1784) 
Callant, lad 

Calotte. Presumably 
Jacques Callot, a French 
designer and engraver of 
the seventeenth century, 
who delighted in grotesque 
and extravagant subjects 
Camacho’s wedding, an allu- 
sion to Don Quixote , Part II 
Canidia, an old witch of 
Naples. See Horace, 
Epodes and Sat. I 
Canny, cautious, prudent 
Cantle, corner-piece, slice 
Canty, cheerful, merry 
Caption, warrant for appre- 
hension 

Capuchin, a kind of hood or 
shawl 

Carle, fellow 
Cess, land-tax 

Chappit, struck ( e.g . a clock) 
Chaudrons, entrails 
Cheerer, glass of spirits and 
hot water 
Chield, fellow 

Christenbury Craig, or 
Christi anbury Crag, a 
2 1 


481 

hill in the east of Cumber- 
land 

Chumlay, chimney 
Circumduce, to declare the 
time elapsed during which 
proof can be brought 
forward. A Scots law 
term 

Clanjamfray, rabble, all sorts 
of people 

Clashes, rumors, gossip 
Claught, snatch 
Claver, gossip 
Clecking-time, when hens 
hatch chickens 
Cleeks, iron chimney-hooks. 

See note on Lum Cleeks 
Clerihugh’s, a tavern in 
Writers’ Court, off the 
High Street, Edinburgh 
Clod, fling, hurl 
Close, alley 
Clour, thump, smash 
Clouted shoes, shoes having 
the soles studded with iron 
plates or large-headed nails ; 
also patched shoes 
Cock, the mark or tee at 
which curlers play 
Cock and a bottle, in all 
probability a slip for “cock 
and a bull” story 
Coft, bought 


482 


GLOSSARY 


Collieshangie, quarrel, tu- 
mult 

Come o’ will, love-child, 
natural child 

Concurrent, an attendant 
on a sheriff’s officer 
Conjuro te, etc., I adjure 
thee, thou most accursed, 
iniquitous, base, wicked, 
and wretched woman, I 
adjure thee 

Corps de logis, main build- 
ing of a mansion-house 
Coup, upset, overturn 
Cracks, familiar talk, gossip 
Crambo, a game at capping 
verses ; crambo scraps, 
rhymed scraps 

Cranking, creaking, bustling 
Crappit-heads, haddock- 
heads cooked with a stuf- 
fing of oatmeal, suet, onions, 
and pepper 

Crooks, windings of a river 
Crow, a crowbar 
Cruffel Fell, a lofty hill 
(Criffell) in the east of 
Kirkcudbrightshire 
Oujacius, Jacques Cujas, a 
celebrated French jurist of 
the sixteenth century 
Cummerband, or cummer- 
bund, the broad sash or 


shawl that an Oriental wears 
as a girdle 

Cusser, one given to cursing 
Custos rotulorum, the chief 
civil officer of a county 
Cutlugged, crop-eared 
Cutty spoon, short spoon 

Daurna, dare not 
Day-dawing, dawn 
Death-ruckle, death-rattle 
Defeat, exhausted 
Deil-be-licket, not the least 
scrap, piece 

De Lyba, a French theologian 
of the fourteenth century, 
wrote celebrated Commen- 
taries (in Latin) on the Old 
Testament 

Deuke, the Duke of Buc- 
cleuch 

Deurloo, or Deurlo, a nar- 
row arm of the Western 
Scheldt, between the island 
of Walcheren and Flanders 
Ding, throw, beat 
Donnert, stupid 
Doo, dove. See also Dukit 
Dooms, very, absolutely 
Douce, quiet, staid 
Douse the glim, put out the 
light 

Dow, list, care 


GLOSSARY 


483 


Dowie, dull, melancholy 
Downright Dunstable, one 
who speaks plain, and 
straight to the point 
Dree’d his weird, bore his 
fate 

Dub, pool, puddle 
Duds, clothes, rags 
Duke Humphrey. See 
Shakespeare’s Henry VI, 
Part II, Act ii, Sc. 1 
Dukit, or dukate, dovecote. 
A park containing the dove- 
cote is often called in 
Scotland the “ dukate 
park” 

Ee, een, eye, eyes 
Eilding, fuel, generally peat, 
turf, etc. 

Eld, old people, elders 
Ephemeris (pi. Ephemerides ) , 
an astronomical almanac, 
or predicted chart of the 
heavenly bodies for every 
day during a certain period 
Ericthoe, a Thessalian sor- 
ceress 

Es spuckt da, that place is 
haunted 

Faderland, one’s fatherland 
or mother country 


Faem, foam 

Fair-strae death, natural 
death in one’s own bed 
Fambles, hands 
Far yaud, far away, a cry to 
sheep-dogs 

Fash, trouble, cause trouble 

to ; FASHIOUS, FASHEOUS, 

troublesome 
Faste, display, show 
Fauld-dyke, sheep-fold wall 
Fause loon, false, shamming 
fellow 
Feck, part 

Feckless, feeble, spiritless 
Fee and Bountith, wages and 
perquisites 

Feifteen, the Supreme Court 
of fifteen judges in Edin- 
burgh 

Fell, hill; hide, skin; keen, 
clever 

Feras consumere nati, born 
to consume the wild animals 
of the field — an allusion to 
the sporting squires of Eng- 
land in Torn Jones 
Ferme ornee, fancy farm 
Fern-seed, gather the, a 
means of rendering oneself 
invisible 

Ferret, a narrow cotton or 
worsted band 


484 


GLOSSARY 


Fescennine, ribald, scurrilous 
Fie, predestined, foredoomed 
Fient a bit, never a bit ; 
fient a haet, the devil a 
jot ! 

Fike, bother, take trouble 
Firlot, a corn measure 
Flisk, frisk, jerk 
Forbye, besides 
Forebears, forefathers 
Fou, full, satisfied 
Four-hours, a slight meal 
taken between dinner and 
supper, usually at 4 o’clock 
Four quarters, hands and 
feet (to help) 

Friar’s chicken, chicken 
broth with eggs beaten up 
and dropped into it 
Frummagem’d, throttled 

Gae, gaed, go, went 
Gaedown, drinking bout 
Galloway, kind of strong 
Scotch cob 
Gang, to go 
Gangrel, vagrant 
Gangthereout, wandering, 
vagrant 

Ganwehis, possibly for Gau- 
ricus, an astrologer of the 
sixteenth century 
Gar, force, make 


Gate, gait, way, manner, 
road 

Gay, gey, considerable 
Gelt, money 
Giff-gaff, give and take 
Gliff, gliffing, instant, 
minute 
Glim, light 
Glower, stare 
Gott, God 
Goud, gold 
Gowan, daisy 

Grace the woodie, adorn 
the gallows 
Greet, cry, weep 
Grego, griego, a short cloak, 
of coarse woollen stuff, 
with a hood attached 
Grew, greyhound 
Grieve, overseer 
Grippit, gripped 
Gumphions, funeral banners 
Gyre-carling, witch, hob- 
goblin 

Hadden, held 

Hafflin callant, half-grown 
lad 

Haick, hack 

Haill water, whole river- 
side, valley, district 
Hallan, partition, wall 
Hansel, gift of money in the 


GLOSSARY 


485 


hand, tip, Christmas box; 
Hansel Monanday, Mon- 
day after New Year’s day 
Hantle, handful, a number of 
Haud, hold 

Hauld, out of house and, 
destitute 

Heezie, hoist, lift 
Hellicat, desperate, extrava- 
gant 

Herd, man in charge of the 
cattle on a Scotch farm 
Heugh, or heuch, a broken 
bank 

High Mightinesses, the cus- 
tomary title of the Estates 
of Holland 

Hinney, honey, a familiar 
form of address 
Hirsel, hirsill, to slide or 
glide down ; a flock 
Hizzie, hussy 

Hold mich der deyvil, a 
corruption of a common 
German oath, “The devil 
take me!” 

Horning, warrant for appre- 
hending a debtor 
Houdie, midwife 
Houndsfoot schelm, stupid 
blockhead, blundering ras- 
cal 

Howff, resort, lurking-place. 


Howk, dig 

Howm, hollow, small island 
Humdudgeon, ado, pet 
Hund, hound, drive 
Hunt-the-gowk, fool’s er- 
rand 

Ich bin, I am, I be 

ICH BIN GANZ GEFRORNE, I 

am frozen to death 
Ilka waf carle, every in- 
significant churl 
Ilk ither, one another 
Ingan, onion 

Jaw-hole, the hole or sink 
where dirty water, etc., is 
thrown 

Jet and object, aim, point, 
and object 
Jethart, Jedburgh 
Joe, sweetheart 
John a’ Nokes or John o’ 
Noakes, a fictitious name 
used by lawyers in writs for 
ejectment 

Johnnie Armstrong and his 
merrymen, celebrated Bor- 
der raiders of Liddesdale 
See Minstrelsy of Scottish 
Border , “Johnnie Arm- 

strong ” 

John o’ the Scales, steward 


486 


GLOSSARY 


of the lord of Linne, whose 
estate he bought at a 
ridiculously low figure and 
then treated his late master 
despitefully. See Percy’s 
Religues, Series II, Book II 

Kahn, skiff 
Kaim, camp, hillock 
Keepit the kirk, attended 
the parish church 
Ken, kenna, know, know not 
Kibe, chapped heel, ulcerated 
chilblain 

Killogie, lime-kiln, furnace 
Kilt, upset, overturn 
Kimmer, gossip, friend 
Kinchin, infant 
Kinder, children 
Kipper, smoked salmon 
Kist, chest 
Kitt, booty, plunder 
Kittle, ticklish, doubtful 
Knave-bairn, boy child 
Knevel, beat severely with 
the fists 

Kobold, a hobgoblin ; the 
devil 

Lair, learning, education 
Lang gate, a long way, a 
good step 

Langsyne, long ago 


Latch, mire, bog 
Led farm, a farm on which 
the tenant does not reside 
Letter-gae, church precentor 
or clerk 

Leugh, laughed 
Levin, lightning 
Lib-ken, jail quarters, lodg- 
ings 

Lift, the firmament, sky 
Lilly, William, in the middle 
of the seventeenth century 
made a profession, in Lon- 
don, of casting nativities and 
foretelling future events, his 
knaveries having great 
weight with many 
Limmer, jade 
Links, windings of a river 
Linne, Heir of. The story 
is related in Percy’s Rel- 
iques, Series II, Book II 
Lippen, trust 
Lith, joint 

Loan, loaning, lane, path- 
way 

Loon, fellow, rogue (humor- 
ously) 

Loup, leap 
Low, flame 

Luckenbooths, a block of 
buildings in the middle of 
the street beside St. Giles’ 


GLOSSARY 


487 


church, Edinburgh ; it was 
removed in 1817 
Luckie, mother, a generic 
title given to old dames 
Lunt, blaze 

L’un vaut bien l’ autre, one 
is quite as good as the other 
Lusthaus, pleasure-house 
Lykewake, the watch over a 
dead body 

Maist, most 

Maroons, outlaws (runaway 
slaves and others) in 
Jamaica 

Maun, maunna, must, must 
not 

Maundering, grumbling 
Mearns, an old name for 
Kincardineshire 
Mein Herr, sir 
Messan, cur, dog of little 
value 

Mirk Monanday, Easter 
Monday, called after Black 
Monday, the day after 
Easter Sunday, 14th April, 
1360 

Moidore, a Portuguese gold 
coin, worth 27 shillings 
Monitoire, a French law 
term. Strictly, a brief read 
from the parish church, 


charging all under pain of 
excommunication to give 
any evidence for detection 
of crime 

Moonshie, secretary 

Moss, a morass bog; moss- 
hag, a hollow or break in a 
moss 

Muckle, much, great, large 

Multa sunt, etc. ; in customs 
there are many things in- 
consistent and many devoid 
of reason 

Muscavado, or Muscovado, 
unrefined sugar 

Nantz, Nantes brandy 

Ne accesseris, etc., enter 
not into counsel until you 
are called 

Nein, no 

Ne moveas Camerinam, 
Don’t touch (interfere with) 
the Camerina. An oracular 
dictum of Apollo forbidding 
the marsh or morass in the 
river at Camarina in Sicily 
to be drained 

Neque semper arcum tendit 
Apollo, neither does Apollo 
(Phoebus) always bend the 
bow — though that was his 
special duty 


488 


GLOSSARY 


Niffer, higgle, bargain 
Niff-naffy, fastidious 
No canny, not safe, dangerous 
Non valens agere, not in a 
position to look after one’s 
own 

On n’arrete, etc., it doesn’t 
do to halt on such a good 
road 

Orra time, occasionally 
Outcast, dispute 
Out of house and hauld, 
destitute 

Pairs, drubbing, punishment 
Palmer’s invention. Palmer 
of Bath in 1782 suggested 
that special post coaches 
for speed should be built, 
and an armed guard should 
accompany every coach 
Parritch, porridge 
Peat-hag, a bog, morass 
Peculium, pocket-money 
Peenging, whining 
Penny-stane, stone quoit 
Periapt, amulet 
Pickle, a few 

Pike out, pick out, pluck out 
Pinners, head-dress, lappets 
Pirn, reel 
Pit, put 


Pit mirk, dark as a pit 
Plainte de Tournelle, in- 
formation laid before the 
chamber for criminal in- 
quiries (La Tournelle) of 
the Parlement of Paris. 
As a general term, a rigorous 
inquisition 

Plough-gate, as much land 
as could be ploughed with 
one plough 
Pock, poke, bag 
Pockmanky, portmanteau 
Poinded, impounded, shut up 
in a pin-fold 

Poppling, purling, rippling 
Pow, head 
Prig, beg, entreat 
Prin, pin 

Prout de lege, according to 

law 

Rampauging, rampant, storm- 
ing and raging 

Randle-tree, a tall, raw- 
boned person 

Randy, vagrant, disorderly 
Ranging and riping, sifting 
and searching 
Rasp-house, custom-house 
Red cock craw, raise fire 
Redding (a quarrel), settling, 
putting an end to 


GLOSSARY 


489 


Redgill, Dr., a vulgar, selfish 
gourmand in Miss Ferrier’s 
novel Marriage 
Reise, twig, small branch 
Reist, smoke, dry (fish, etc.) 
Retour, returned to Chan- 
cery for service of an heir 
Rig, ridge, field, acre 
Rin, run 
Ripe, to search 
Rive, rob, pilfer 
Rotten, rat 
Roturier, a plebeian 
Roup, to sell by auction; a 
sale ; Roupit, sold by auc- 
tion 

Routing, bellowing, snoring 
Rubbit, robbed 
Rullion Green, a natural 
pass on the south side of 
the Pentland Hills, where 
in 1666 a party of Cove- 
nanters from Galloway were 
cut to pieces by General 
Thomas Dalziel 
Rump and dozen, rump of 
beef and a dozen of wine, 
a good dinner 

Sackless, innocent 
Sain, bless 
Sair, sore 

Sall ich bin, shall I be 


Salvator, Salvator Rosa, the 
Neapolitan painter 
Samyn, self-same 
Sap, ninny, heavy-headed fel- 
low 

Sark, shirt 

Sarkfu’ o’ sair banes, a 
shirt-full of sore bones 
Saufen bier, etc. Quaff 
the beer and brandy, 
Smash the windows in ! 
I’m a rake; you’re a rake. 
Are we not all rakes to- 
gether ? 

Saugh, willow 
Saulies, hired mourners 
Saut, salt 

Scaff-raff, riff-raff, rabble 
Scart, scratch 

Screed, a lengthy piece, large 
quantity, an excess 
Sederunt, a sitting, a law 
term 

Shake-rag, tatterdemalion 
Shealing, sheeling, hut 
Shear, divide, cut 
•Sherra, sheriff 
Shoeing-horn, something 
leading or encouraging to 
further drinking 
Shoon, shoes 
Sib, related 
Sic, sicken, such 


490 


GLOSSARY 


Sicca rupees, rupees newly- 
coined ; rupees struck by 
the Government of Bombay 
from 1793 to 1836, and 
richer in silver than the 
Company’s rupees 
Sing out, or whistle in the 
cage, is when a rogue, 
being apprehended, peaches 
against his comrades 
Skeel, professional advice 
Slack, morass, a low passage 
between two hills 
Slap, gap, breach 
Smaik, a mean, despicable 
fellow, wretch 
Souple, a stout cudgel 
Spae, cast, foretell 
Span-counter, a game with 
counters in which the player 
tries to pitch his own coun- 
ter within a span’s length 
of his antagonist’s 
Speer, speir, to inquire, ask 
Splores, frolics, squabbles 
Sprug, a sparrow 
Spunk of fire, a bit of fire, • 
small fire 

Standish, an inkstand 
Staneshiebank Fair, Stag- 
shawbank Fair, held at a 
spot near the Roman Wall 
in Cumberland 


Steek, stitch ; shut, close 
Stickit minister, stickit 
stibbler, one who, after 
studying for the church in 
Scotland, fails in the pro- 
fession 
Stirk, steer 

Stir your gear, touch, 
meddle with your belongings 
Stown, stolen 
Strae, straw 

Strafe mich helle, Hell take 

me ! STRAFE MICH DER DEY- 

fel, the devil fetch me ! 
Streik, streek, stretch, lay 
out a dead body 
Sture, tall, big 
Sunkie, a low stool 
SUUM CUIQUE TRIBUITO, To 
every man his due 
Swear, difficult, hard 

Tait o’ woo’, tuft (small 
piece) of wool 

Tak tent, to take care, be- 
ware of 

Tartars. The gypsies are 
popularly called Tartars in 
Norway and Sweden 
Tass, glass 
Teinds, tithes 

Tempore Caroli primi, in the 
time of Charles I 


GLOSSARY 


491 


Tent, care 
Thae, these 

That weight of wood, etc. 

From Crabbe’s Library 
Thrapple, the throat 
Threep, assert, say, threaten 
Thristle, thistle 
Tiff, a sup, draught of drink 
Tippenny, two-penny ale 
Tod, fox 

Tolbooth, jail, house of de- 
tention 
Toom, empty 

Tota re perspecta, consider- 
ing the whole thing 
Tow, hemp, rope 
Trindle, trundle 
Trine to the cheat, get 
hanged 

Troke, deal or traffic with 
Tron ; a church on the High 
Street, Edinburgh, a little 
to the east of St. Giles’ 
Cathedral 
Tryst, market, fair 
Tttilzie, brawl, scuffle 
Turband, turban 
Twa, twasome, two 
Tweel, web, woven cloth 
Tyke, cur 

Umqvhile, umwhile, late, 
deceased 


Unco, uncommon, strange 
Uphaud, uphold 

Verbum volans, a winged 
word, idle word 

Wad, would; bet, wager 
Waefu’, woeful 
Wale, choice, best pick 
Wane, belly 
Warlock, wizard, witch 
Wa’s, walls 
Waur, worse 

Wean, infant, young child 
Wear, force, restraint 
Wedder, a wether (sheep) 
Weel-faured, well-favored, 
prepossessing 

Weird, destiny ; weird’s 
dree’d, the destiny is run 
out 

Weize, direct, send 
Wheen, whin, a few, a party 
Whigging, jogging 
Whittret, weasel 
Worriecow, hobgoblin, bug- 
bear 

Wtjddie, woodie, rope, halter 
Wuss, wish 
Wyte, blame 

Yaffing, barking 
Yepistle, letter 


















^ - * * 
















































■ r 






* 


























SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 

Chapter I . — 1. How does Scott begin his story — with 
the scene and setting, at the beginning of the action, or in the 
middle of the action? 

2. Can you determine which names of places are real and 
which fictitious in the opening chapters ? 

3. In what chapter can we first set a definite time for the 
story? Give references. 

4. What trait of the Scotch peasant is indicated (a) by 
the form of answer given the traveller’s queries ; ( b ) by the 
sudden change in the attitude of the woman when the traveller 
mentions the word “pay”? 

Chapter II. — ■ 1. What does the writer gain by his long 
account of the ancestors of Mr. Bertram? 

2. The usual methods of portraying character are : (a) by 
descriptive terms; (6) words and actions; (c) personal ap- 
pearance; ( d ) personal or family history; (e) what others 
say of the person. How many of these methods has the 
author used in portraying Godfrey Bertram? Abel Samp- 
son? 

Chapter III. — 1. Which of the characters presented thus 
far has Scott depicted most forcefully? Are we more im- 
pressed by the personal appearance or mental traits of this 
character ? 

2. Is the astrological element of the plot skilfully intro- 
duced, or are we surprised that Mr. Bertram should .be in- 
terested in such matters? 

3. Does it seem natural that a young university student 
should be sufficiently interested in hoaxing the Dominie to 
carry out the casting of a horoscope? 

Chapter IV. — 1. Point out instances of forecast in this 
chapter. 

2. Compare the description of Ellangowan Auld Place 
with that of the ruins of Caerlaverock Castle as given by 
Mr. Olcott (page 446) . 


493 


494 


SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 


Chapter V. — 1. Why does the author make Mannering 
postpone the reading of the nativity for five years ? 

2. For how many chapters does Scott carry out the original 
plot as told in his Introduction? 

Chapter VI. — 1. What reason is assigned for Mr. Bertram’s 
sudden severity with all malefactors? Is this in keeping 
with his character as hitherto presented? 

Chapter VII. — 1. What trait of Bertram’s is brought out 
by the way the gypsies disregarded the warnings he had 
posted ? 

2. What character, later to have a prominent pa A w in the 
untangling of the plot, is casually introduced here? 

Chapter VIII. — 1. What idea is conveyed in the sentence 
telling that the gypsies “set forth to seek new settlements, 
where their patron should neither be of the quorum nor 
custos rotulorum ”? 

2. Point out several good descriptive passages in this 
chapter. 

Chapter IX. — 1. What characteristic of Mr. Bertram’s 
is shown by his attitude toward smuggling? 

2. How is the attitude of the people of the time indicated 
by Mrs. Bertram’s complaints against Kennedy’s activities? 

3. What mental picture of Mrs. Bertram do you get from 
her words and actions in this chapter? 

4. Does it seem probable that Kennedy would stop on his 
errand to signal the revenue cutter and take little Harry with 
him merely to tease the Dominie? 

Chapter X. — 1. Why does the author give such a detailed 
account of the sheriff’s investigations? 

2. How is the mysterious disappearance of Hatteraick and 
his crew after the burning of his vessel later explained? 

3. By what means is Meg Merrilies linked with the dis- 
appearance of the child? 

Chapter XI. — 1. What is the purpose of the conversation 
at the inn with which the chapter opens? Compare with 
Chapter VI in “Silas Marner.’’ 

2. What purpose is served by the long-drawn-out argu- 
ment among the villagers as to the mode of Harry Bertram’s 
disappearance ? 

Chapter XII. — 1. What is the purpose of Mannering’s 
long letter? 


SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 495 

2. Are the facts as interesting in letter form as they would 
have been if brought out in some other way? 

3. Name some present-day story told wholly or partly in 
the form of letters. 

Chapter XIII. — 1 . What hint in this chapter that the 
Hazlewoods do not approve of their son’s attentions to Lucy 
Bertram ? 

2. Observe how Scott arouses sympathy for Mr. Bertram 
by the circumstances attendant upon his death. What have 
been our feelings toward him previous to this time? Give 
similar instances from other works studied or read; as, for 
example, “Macbeth” or “Silas Marner.” 

3. What is the reader’s first impression of Glossin? Where 
has he been mentioned before? Was he presented favorably 
or unfavorably? 

Chapter XIV. — 1. Why does Colonel Mannering go away 
when he is so much interested in the sale of the Bertram 
property ? 

2. What characteristic is brought out in Mannering’s in- 
terview with the Dominie? 

Chapter XV. — 1. In what chapters have previous evi- 
dences of the Dominie’s fidelity to the Bertram family been 
given ? 

Chapter XVI. — 1. Does the reference to the “Hindu tune” 
serve to give us a hint as to the identity of Julia’s admirer? 

2. How does this chapter explain Mannering’s failure to 
return to Kippletringan ? 

Chapter XVII. — 1. Do you find the constant retelling of 
the story of Brown in letter form unpleasant? How many 
times and by whom is it told? 

2. What hints of Julia’s character in Mervyn’s letter are 
confirmed in her own?' Are any new traits brought out? 

Chapter XVIII. — 1. Give Mannering’s character as out- 
lined by his daughter. 

Chapter XIX. — 1. What are Mannering’s reasons for re- 
moving to Woodbourne? Are they in keeping with his 
character ? 

Chapter XX. — 1. Characterize Julia as she appears in 
this chapter. In what respects is she like her father? 

2. How would the modern girl be inclined to regard the 
“amusements” offered the young ladies at Woodbourne? 


496 


SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 


Chapter XXI. — 1. What impression does Brown’s letter 
leave on the reader as to the young man’s character? 

2. What circumstances in this chapter help to arouse our 
suspicions as to Brown’s identity? 

Chapter XXII. — 1. Compare “cabaret” as used here 
with the modern signification of the term. 

2. Does the pony’s gait of “fourteen mile an hour” seem 
probable to us ? What do you know of the Galloway pony ? 

Chapter XXIII. — 1 . How are our suspicions of Brown’s 
identity strengthened here? 

Chapter XXIV. — 1. What characteristics of Dinmont 
are brought out in this chapter ? 

2. Comment on Scott’s knowledge of Scotch rural life as 
shown in this and the following chapter. 

3. What significance in the statement that Ailie “never 
thought of showing the guest to a separate room”? 

Chapter XXV. — 1. How does the author contrive to 
arouse our curiosity as to the huntsman? Have we as yet 
any clew to his identity? 

Chapter XXVI. — 1. What trait of Dinmont’s prompts the 
offer of money to Brown, a comparative stranger? 

Chapters XXVII-XXVIII . — 1. Comment on Scott’s skill 
in entangling Brown ’with the smugglers, (a) by bringing 
him to the ruined building, (6) by having his luggage con- 
fiscated by the gypsies. 

2. How do the events in these chapters pave the way for 
later complications? 

Chapter XXIX. — 1. Does this chapter chiefly depict 
character or carry on the action of the story? 

Chapter XXX. — 1 . Does the mind readily connect the 
incidents in this chapter with those in Chapters XXVII and 
XXVIII? 

Chapter XXXI. — 1. Observe how Scott brings Glossin 
“into the picture” again. For how many chapters has he 
been lost sight of ? 

2. What are Glossin’s motives for trying to apprehend 
young Hazlewood’s assailant? Has he any inkling of the 
young man’s identity? 

3. What new fight does this chapter throw on Brown’s 
resentful attitude toward Hazlewood at the time of the 
quarrel ? 


SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 


497 


Chapter XXXIII. — 1. Has Scott prepared the reader 
sufficiently for the reappearance of Hatteraick? 

2. Have we had any previous hints that Glossin was in 
any way connected with the disappearance of Harry Bertram ? 

Chapter XXXIV. — 1 . How is the mystery of the strange 
sullenness of the huntsman in Chapter XXV now cleared up ? 

2. Is the disclosure of Brown’s identity a surprise to you? 
If not, where did you first begin to suspect it? 

3. Why should Glossin be so anxious to get the young man 
out of the country? 

Chapter XXXV. — 1 . Account for Scott’s constant refer- 
ence to Mrs. Margaret Bertram, although the old lady is 
specifically referred to as a spinster all through the story. 

2. Why does Glossin take the deed in person, instead of 
sending it by messenger to Woodbourne? 

3. Is “repulsive” the correct word to employ in describ- 
ing Mannering’s reception of Glossin? Why? 

Chapter XXXVI. — 1. Account for the vividness of Scott’s 
description of Edinburgh and its inhabitants, especially of 
Counsellor Pleydell at high jinks. 

2. What traits of Dinmont’s are brought out by his desire 
(a) to go to law with Jock o’ Dawston over a bit of waste 
land ; (6) to lay claim to a part of Margaret Bertram’s 
6statc ^ 

Chapters XXXVII-XXXVIII . — 1. These two chapters 
display Scott’s skill in group characterization. Point out 
some of the most striking portrayals. 

2. By what means does Scott keep the reader in suspense 
as to the disposition of the old lady’s estate? 

3. What element of surprise does the will offer ? 

4. Contrast the magnanimity of Dinmont with the sulky 
indifference of the other disappointed heirs. 

Chapter XXXIX. — 1. How is the old lady’s coolness 
toward Lucy at the time of the father’s death explained in 
this chapter? 

2. In what chapter did we last meet Meg Merrilies? 

Chapter XL. — 1 . What light does this chapter throw on 
the improvement in mail service since the eighteenth cen- 
tury? 

2. What parts of Julia’s letter probably caused Brown to 
determine to return to Galloway? 

2k 


498 


SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 


Chapter XLI. — 1 . Contrast the Bertram motto with 
that adopted by Glossin. 

2. Is the long conversation between Brown and Glossin, 
based chiefly on reminiscences, really necessary ? Why ? 

Chapters XLII-XLIII. — 1 . Comment on Scott’s char- 
acterization of Sir Robert Hazlewood. Compare with Eliot’s 
picture of Squire Cass in “ Silas Marner.” 

2. Point out some of Sir Robert’s “ triads and quaternions.” 

Chapter XLIV. — 1. Account for Mac-Guffog’s concern at 
Brown’s failure to demand his purse at the examination. 

2. Contrast prison conditions in the eighteenth century 
with those of today. 

Chapter XLV. — 1. By whose command has Gabriel sent 
Dinmont to Brown’s aid? 

2. What is Dinmont’s method of inducing the keeper to 
let him spend the night in the prison? Would it have been 
legally sound? 

Chapter XLV I. — 1. How does Scott contrive to bring 
about the meeting between the Dominie and Meg Merrilies ? 

2. Point out an example of forecast near the end of the 
chapter. 

Chapter XLVII. — 1. How does Scott account for the 
readiness with which Charles Hazlewood obeys Meg’s com- 
mands ? 

Chapter XLVIII. — 1. Have we here any idea of who the 
friendly smuggler at the moment of rescue is ? Where do we 
learn his identity? 

Chapter LXIX. — 1. What is the purpose of this chapter? 
Does any part of it advance the action? 

Chapter L. — 1 . Has the author kept any element of sur- 
prise for this chapter? 

Chapter LI. — 1. What speech of the Dominie’s shows 
us that he has been the butt of Miss Julia’s merry tongue? 

2. What justification does Julia offer her father for con- 
cealing her love for young Bertram ? 

Chapter LI I. — 1 . Observe the effective “entrance” pro- 
vided for Meg Merrilies. Compare with the entrance of 
Silas at the inn at the close of Chapter VI in “Silas 
Marner.” 

Chapter LI II. — 1. How does Scott manage to invest Meg 
with an almost supernatural atmosphere in this chapter? 


SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS 


499 


Chapter LIV. — 1. Why does Meg taunt Hatteraick be- 
fore giving the signal for the attack? 

Chapter LV. — 1. To what national trait does the author 
refer when he speaks of “the frost of the Scottish people”? 

2. Does Scott understand “ mob psychology ” ? Point out 
an instance. 

Chapter LVI. — 1. Observe how seemingly trivial incidents 
introduced in the earlier chapters here aid in the unravelling 
of the plot. 

Chapter LVI I. — 1. Point out how the author contrives 
to furnish a hint of the supernatural. Compare with some of 
Irving’s sketches, especially “Rip Van Winkle” and “The 
Legend of Slecpj^ Hollow.” 

2. How does this chapter satisfy “poetic justice”? 

Chapter LVI II. — 1. Why does Scott have Mannering 
relate the happy ending instead of letting the lovers be the 
last on the scene? 


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Selections from American Poetry 

Shelley and Keats’s Selected Poems 

Southern Poets. Selections J 

Tennyson’s Idylls of the King 

Tennyson’s Princess 

Tennyson’s Shorter Poems 

Whittier’s Snow-Bound and Other Early Poems 

Wordsworth’s Shorter Poems 


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